s 

University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


CLOTELLE; 


OR, 


THE  COLORED  HEROINE. 


Cafe  0f        Stotttrn  States. 


WILLIAM    WELLS    BROWN, 

AUTHOR  OF  "SKETCHES  OF  PLACES  AND  PEOPLE  ABROAD,"  "THE  BLACK  MAN, 
"  THE  NEGRO  IN  THE  AMERICAN  REBELLION,"  &c. 


1  Ask  you  what  provocation  I  have  had  ? 
The  strong  antipathy  of  good  to  bad. 
When  truth  or  virtue  an  affront  endures, 
The  affront  is  mine,  my  friend,  and  should  be  yours." 

POPE. 


BOSTON: 

LEE   &  SHEPARD,   149   WASHINGTON   STREET. 
1867. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1867,  by 

WILLIAM  WELLS  BEOWN, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


PRESS  OF  GEO.  C.  RAND  &  AVERY. 


To 


MRS.   ANNIE    G.   BROWN, 

WBFB. 


WHO,    ON    BEADING    THE    MANUSCRIPT,    SO    MUCH    ADMIRED    THK 

CHARACTER    OF   CLOTELLK    AS    TO    NAME    OUR    DAUGHTER 

AFTER    THE    HEROINE, 

Volume 

IS  MOST  AFFECTIONATELY  INSCRIBED 
BY  THE  AUTHOR. 


PREFACE. 


WITH  the  exception  of  the  last  four  chapters,  this  work  was  written 
before  the  breaking  out  of  the  recent  rebellion.  Although  romantic  in 
many  of  its  details,  it  is,  nevertheless,  a  truthful  description  of  scenes 
which  occurred  in  the  places  which  are  given. 

Both  Clotelle  and  Jerome  are  real  personages.  Many  of  the  incidents 
were  witnessed  by  the  author. 

CAMBRIDGEPORT,  June,  1867. 


CLOTELLE. 

CHAPTER    I. 

THE  SOUTHERN  SOCIAL  CIRCLE. 

FR  many  years  the  South  has  been  noted  for  its  beautiful  Quadroon 
ivomen.  Bottles  of  ink,  and  reams  of  paper,  have  been  used  to 
portray  the  "  finely-cut  and  well-moulded  features,"  the  "  silken  curls," 
the  "dark  and  brilliant  eyes,"  the  "splendid  forms,"  the  "fascinating 
smiles,"  and  "  accomplished  manners  "  of  these  impassioned  and  volup 
tuous  daughters  of  the  two  races,  —  the  unlawful  product  of  the  crime 
of  human  bondage.  When  we  take  into  consideration  the  fact  that  no 
safeguard  was  ever  thrown  around  virtue,  and  no  inducement  held  out 
to  slave-women  to  be  pure  and  chaste,  we  will  not  be  surprised  when 
told  that  immorality  pervades  the  domestic  circle  in  the  cities  and  towns 
of  the  South  to  an  extent  unknown  in  the  Northern  States.  Many  a 
planter's  wife  has  dragged  out  a  miserable  existence,  with  an  aching 
heart,  at  seeing  her  place  in  the  husband's  affections  usurped  by  the 
unadorned  beauty  and  captivating  smiles  of  her  waiting-maid.  Indeed, 
the  greater  portion  of  the  colored  women,  in  the  days  of  slavery,  had 
no  greater  aspiration  than  that  of  becoming  the  finely-dressed  mistress 
of  some  white  man.  At  the  negro  balls  and  parties,  that  used  to  be  so 
frequently  given,  this  class  of  women  generally  made  the  most  splendid 
appearance. 

A  few  years  ago,  among  the  many  slave-women  of  Richmond,  Va., 
who  hired  their  time  of  their  masters,  was  Agnes,  a  mulatto  owned  by 
John  Graves,  Esq.,  and  who  might  be  heard  boasting  that  she  was  the 

6 


6  G L  O  TELLE. 

daughter  of  an  American  Senator.  Although  nearly  forty  years  of  age 
at  the  time  of  which  we  write,  Agnes  was  still  exceedingly  handsome. 
More  than  half  white,  with  long  black  hair  and  deep  blue  eyes,  no  one 
felt  like  disputing  with  her  when  she  urged  her  claim  to  her  relationship 
with  the  Anglo-Saxon. 

In  her  younger  days,  Agnes  had  been  a  housekeeper  for  a  young  slave 
holder,  and  in  sustaining  this  relation  had  become  the  mother  of  two 
daughters.  Afte"r  being  cast  aside  by  this  young  man,  the  slave-woman 
betook  herself  to  the  business  of  a  laundress,  and  was  considered  to  be 
the  most  tasteful  woman  in  Richmond  at  her  vocation. 

Isabella  and  Marion,  the  two  daughters  of  Agnes,  resided  with  their 
mother,  and  gave  her  what  aid  they  could  in  her  business.  The  mother, 
however,  was  very  choice  of  her  daughters,  and  would  allow  them  to 
perform  no  labor  that  would  militate  against  their  lady-like  appearance. 
Agnes  early  resolved  to  bring  up  her  daughters  as  ladies,  as  she  termed  it. 

As  the  girls  grew  older,  the  mother  had  to  pay  a  stipulated  price  for 
them  per  month.  Her  notoriety  as  a  laundress  of  the  first  class  enabled 
her  to  put  an  extra  charge  upon  the  linen  that  passed  through  her 
hands ;  and  although  she  imposed  little  or  no  work  upon  her  daughters, 
she  was  enabled  to  live  in  comparative  luxury  and  have  her  daughters 
dressed  to  attract  attention,  especially  at  the  negro  balls  and  parties. 

Although  the  term  "  negro  ball "  is  applied  to  these  gatherings,  yet  a 
large  portion  of  the  men  who  attend  them  are  whites.  Negro  balls  and 
parties  in  the  Southern  States,  especially  in  the  cities  and  towns,  are 
usually  made  up  of  quadroon  women,  a  few  negro  men,  and  any  num 
ber  of  white  gentlemen.  These  are  gatherings  of  the  most  democratic 
character.  Bankers,  merchants,  lawyers,  doctors,  and  their  clerks  and 
students,  all  take  part  in  these  social  assemblies  upon  terms  of  perfect 
equality.  The  father  and  son  not  tmfrequently  meet  and  dance  vis  a  vis 
at  a  negro  ball. 

It  was  at  one  of  these  parties  that  Henry  Linwood,  the  son  of  a 
wealthy  and  retired  gentleman  of  Richmond,  was  first  introduced  to 
Isabella,  the  oldest  daughter  of  Agnes.  The  young  man  had  just  re 
turned  from  Harvard  College,  where  he  had  spent  the  previous  five 
years.  Isabella  was  in  her  eighteenth  year,  and  was  admitted  by  all 
who  knew  her  to  be  the  handsomest  girl,  colored  or  white,  in  the  city. 
On  this  occasion,  she  was  attired  in  a  sky-blue  silk  dress,  with  deep 
black  lace  flounces,  and  bertha  of  the  same.  On  her  well-moulded 
arms  she  wore  massive  gold  bracelets,  while  her  rich  black  hair  was  ar 
ranged  at  the  back  in  broad  basket  plaits,  ornamented  with  pearls,  and 
the  front  in  the  French  style  (a  la  Imperatrice),  which  suited  her  classic 
face  to  perfection. 

Marioi  was  scarcely  less  richly  dressed  than  her  sister. 


CLOTELLE.  1 

Henry  Lin-wood  paid  great  attention  to  Isabella,  which  was  looked 
upon  with  gratification  by  her  mother,  and  became  a  matter  of  general 
conversation  with  all  present.  Of  course,  the  young  man  escorted  the 
beautiful  quadroon  home  that  evening,  -and  became  the  favorite  visitor 
at  the  house  of  Agnes. 

It  was  on  a  beautiful  moonlight  night  in  the  month  of  August,  when 
ail  who  reside  in  tropical  climates  are  eagerly  gasping  for  a  breath  of 
fresh  air,  that  Henry  Linwood  was  in  the  garden  which  surrounded 
Agnes'  cottage,  with  the  young  quadroon  by  his  side.  He  drew  from 
his  pocket  a  newspaper  wet  from  the  press,  and  read  the  following  ad 
vertisement  :  — 

NOTICE.  —  Seventy-nine  negroes  will  be  offered  for  sale  on  Monday, 
September  10,  at  12  o'clock,  being  tho  entire  stock  of  the  late  John 
Graves.  The  negroes  are  in  an  excellent  condition,  and  all  warranted 
against  the  common  vices.  Among  them  are  several  mechanics,  able- 
bodied  field-hands,  plough-boys,  and  women  with  children,  some  or  them 
very  prolific,  affording  a  rare  opportunity  for  any  one  who  wishes  to  raise 
a  strong  and  healthy  lot  of  servants  for  their  own  use.  Also  several 
mulatto  girls  of  rare  personal  qualities,  —  two  of  these  very  superior. 

Among  the  above  slaves  advertised  for  sale  were  Agnes  and  her  two 
daughters.  Ere  young  Linwood  left  the  quadroon  that  evening,  he 
promised  her  that  he  would  become  her  purchaser,  and  make  her  free 
and  her  own  mistress. 

Mr.  Graves  had  long  been  considered  not  only  an  excellent  and  up 
right  citizen  of  the  first  standing  among  the  whites,  but  even  the  slaves 
regarded  him  as  one  of  the  kindest  of  masters.  Having  inherited  his 
slaves  with  the  rest  of  his  property,  he  became  possessed  of  them  with 
out  any  consultation  or  wish  of  his  own.  He  would  neither  buy  nor 
sell  slaves,  and  was  exceedingly  careful,  in  letting  them  out,  that  they 
did  not  find  oppressive  and  tyrannical  masters.  No  slave  speculator 
ever  dared  to  cross  the  threshold  of  this  planter  of  the  Old  Dominion. 
He  was  a  constant  attendant  upon  religious  worship,  and  was  noted  for 
his  general  benevolence.  The  American  Bible  Society,  the  American 
Tract  Society,  and  the  cause  of  Foreign  Missions,  found  in  him  a  liberal 
friend.  He  was  always  anxious  that  his  slaves  should  appear  well  on 
the  Sabbath,  and  have  an  opportunity  of  hearing  the  word  of  God. 


CHAPTER     II. 

THE  NEGRO   SALE. 

As  might  have  been  expected,  the  day  of  sale  brought  an  unusually 
large  number  together  to  compete  for  the  property  to  be  sold.  Farmers, 
who  make  a  business  of  raising  slaves  for  the  market,  were  there,  and 


8  C  L  0  TEL  L  E. 

elave-traders,  who  make  a  business  of  buying  human  beings  in  the 
slave-raising  States  and  taking  them  to  the  far  South,  were  also  in  at 
tendance.  Men  and  women,  too,  who  wished  to  purchase  for  their  own 
use,  had  found  their  way  to  the  slave  sale. 

In  the  midst  of  the  throng  was  one  who  felt  a  deeper  interest  in  the 
result  of  the  sale  than  any  other  of  the  bystanders.  This  was  young 
Linwood.  True  to  his  promise,  he  was  there  with  a  blank  bank-check 
in  his  pocket,  awaiting  with  impatience  to  enter  the  list  as  a  bidder  for 
the  beautiful  slave. 

It  was  indeed  a  heart-rending  scene  to  witness  the  lamentations  of 
these  slaves,  all  of  whom  had  grown  up  together  on  the  old  homestead 
of  Mr.  Graves,  and  who  had  been  treated  with  great  kindness  by  that 
gentleman,  during  his  life.  Now  they  were  to  be  separated,  and  form 
new  relations  and  companions.  Such  is  the  precarious  condition  of  the 
slave.  Even  when  with  a  good  master,  there  is  no  certainty  of  his  hap 
piness  in  the  future. 

The  less  valuable  slaves  were  first  placed  upon  the  auction-block, 
one  after  another,  and  sold  to  the  highest  bidder.  Husbands  and  wives 
were  peparated  with  a  degree  of  indifference  that  is  unknown  in  any 
other  relation  in  life.  Brothers  and  sisters  were  torn  from  each  other, 
and  mothers  saw  their  children  for  the  last  time  on  earth. 

It  was  late  in  the  day,  and  when  the  greatest  number  of  persons  were 
thought  to  be  present,  when  Agnes  and  her  daughters  were  brought  out 
to  the  place  of  sale.  The  mother  was  first  put  up»n  the  auction-block, 
and  sold  to  a  noted  negro  trader  named  Jennings.  Marion  was  next 
ordered  to  ascend  the  stand,  which  she  did  with  a  trembling  step,  and 
was  sold  for  $1200. 

All  eyes  were  now  turned  on  Isaballa,  as  she  was  led  forward  by  the 
auctioneer.  The  appearance  of  the  handsome  quadroon  caused  a  deep 
sensation  among  the  crowd.  There  she  stood,  with  a  skin  as  fair  as 
most  white  women,  her  features  as  beautifully  regular  as  any  of  her 
sex  of  pure  Anglo-Saxon  blood,  her  long  black  hair  done  up  in  the 
neatest  manner,  her  form  tall  and  graceful,  and  her  whole  appearance 
indicating  one  superior  to  her  condition. 

The  auctioneer  commenced  by  saying  that  Miss  Isabella  was  fit  to 
deck  the  drawing-room  of  the  finest  mansion  in  Virginia. 

"  How  much,  gentlemen,  for  this  real  Albino !  —  fit  fancy-girl  for  any 
one !  She  enjoys  good  health,  and  has  a  sweet  temper.  How  much  do 
you  say?"  * 

"  Five  hundred  dollars." 

"  Only  five  hundred  for  such  a  girl  as  this?  Gentlemen,  she  is  worth 
a  deal  more  than  that  sum.  You  certainly  do  not  know  the  value  of 


CLOTE  LLE.  9 

the  article  you  are  bidding  on.  Here,  gentlemen,  I  hold  in  my  hand  a 
paper  certifying  that  she  has  a  good  moral  character." 

"  Seven  hundred." 

"  Ah,  gentlemen,  that  is  something  like.  This  paper  also  states  that 
she  is  very  intelligent." 

"  Eight  hundred." 

"  She  was  first  sprinkled,  then  immersed,  and  is  now  warranted  to  be 
a  devoted  Christian,  and  perfectly  trustworthy." 

"  Nine  hundred  dollars." 

"Nine  hundred  and  fifty." 

"  One  thousand." 

"Eleven  hundred." 

Here  the  bidding  came  to  a  dead  stand.  The  auctioneer  stopped, 
looked  around,  and  began  in  a  rough  manner  to  relate  some  anecdote 
connected  with  the  sale  of  slaves,  which  he  sfcid  had  come  under  his 
own  observation. 

At  this  juncture  the  scene  was  indeed  a  most  striking  one.  The 
laughing,  joking,  swearing,  smoking,  spitting,  and  talking,  kept  up  a 
continual  hum  and  confusion  among  the  crowd,  while  the  slave-girl 
stood  with  tearful  eyes,  looking  alternately  at  her  mother  and  sister  and 
toward  the  young  man  whom  she  hoped  would  become  her  purchaser. 

"  The  chastity  of  this  girl,"  now  continued  the  auctioneer,  "  is  pure. 
She  has  never  been  from  under  her  mother's  care.  She  is  virtuous, 
and  as  gentle  as  a  dove." 

The  bids  here  took  a  fresh  start,  and  went  on  until  $1800  was  reached. 
The  auctioneer  once  more  resorted  to  his  jokes,  and  concluded  by  assur 
ing  the  company  that  Isabella  was  not  only  pious,  but  that  she  could 
make  an  excellent  prayer. 

"Nineteen  hundred  dollars." 

"  Two  thousand." 

This  was  the  last  bid,  and  the  quadroon  girl  was  struck  off,  and  be 
came  the  property  of  Henry  Liuwood. 

This  was  a  Virginia  slave-auction,  at  which  the  bones,  sinews,  blood, 
aiid  nerves  of  a  young  girl  of  eighteen  were  sold  for  $500 ;  her  moral 
character  for  $200;  her  superior  intellect  for  $100;  the  benefits  sup 
posed  to  accrue  from  her  having  been  sprinkled  and  immersed,  together 
with  a  warranty  of  her  devoted  Christianity,  for  $300 ;  her  ability  to 
make  a  good  prayer  for  $200 ;  and  her  chastity  for  $700  more.  This, 
too,  in  a  city  thronged  with  churches,  whose  tall  spires  look  like  so 
many  signals  pointing  to  heaven,  but  whose  ministers  preach  that 
slavery  is  a  God-ordained  institution ! 

The  slaves  were  speedily  separated,  and  taken  along  by  their  respect 
ive  masters.  Jennings,  the  slave-speculator,  who  had  purchased  Agnes 


10  GLOTELLE. 

| 

and  her  daughter  Marion,  with  several  of  the  other  slaves,  took  them  to 
the  county  prison,  where  he  usually  kept  his  human  cattle  after  pur 
chasing  them,  previous  to  starting  for  the  New  Orleans  market. 

Linwood  had  already  provided  a  place  for  Isabella,  to  which  she  was 
taken.  The  most  trying  moment  for  her  was  when  she  took  leave  of 
her  mother  and  sister.  The  "  Good-by  "  of  the  slave  is  unlike  that  of 
any  other  class  in  the  community.  It  is  indeed  a  farewell  forever. 
With  tears  streaming  down  their  cheeks,  they  embraced  and  commended 
each  other  to  God,  who  is  no  respecter  of  persons,  and  before  whom 
master  and  slave  must  one  day  appear. 


CHAPTER    III. 

' 

THE   SLAVE-SPECULATOR. 

DICK  JENNINGS  the  slave-speculator,  was  one  of  the  few  Northern 
men,  who  go  to  the  South  and  throw  aside  their  honest  mode  of  obtain 
ing  a  living  and  resort  to  trading  in  human  beings.  A  more  repulsive- 
looking  person  could  scarcely  be  found  in  any  community  of  bad  look 
ing  men.  Tall,  lean  and  lank,  with  high  cheek-bones,  face  much  pitted 
with  the  small-pox,  gray  eyes  with  red  eyebrows,  and  sandy  whiskers, 
he  indeed  stood  alone  without  mate  or  fellow  in  looks.  Jennings 
prided  himself  upon  what  he  called  his  goodness  of  heart,  and  was 
always  speaking  of  his  humanity.  As  many  of  the  slaves  whom  he 
intended  taking  to  the  New  Orleans  market  had  been  raised  in  Rich 
mond,  and  had  relations  there,  he  determined  to  leave  the  city  early  in 
the  morning,  so  as  not  to  witness  any  of  the  scenes  so  common  on  the 
departure  of  a  slave-gang  to  the  far  South.  In  this,  he  was  most  success 
ful  ;  for  not  even  Isabella,  who  had  called  at  the  prison  several  times  to 
see  her  mother  and  sister,  was  aware  of  the  time  that  they  were  to 
leave. 

The  slave-trader  started  at  early  dawn,  and  was  beyond  the  confines 
of  the  city  long  before  the  citizens  were  out  of  their  beds.  As  a  slave 
regards  a  life  on  the  sugar,  cotton,  or  rice  plantation  as  even  worse  than 
death,  they  are  ever  on  the  watch  for  an  opportunity  to  escape.  The 
trader,  aware  of  this,  secures  his  victims  in  chains  before  he  sets  cut  on 
his  journey.  On  this  occasion,  Jennings  had  the  men  chained  in  pairs, 
while  the  women  were  allowed  to  go  unfastened,  but  were  closely 
watched. 

After  a  march  of  eight  days,  the  company  arrived  on  the  banks  of  the 
Ohio  River,  where  they  took  a  steamer  for  the  place  of  their  destination. 
Jennings  had  already  advertised  in  the  New  Orleans  papers,  that  he 


CLOTELLE.  11 

would  be  there  with  a  prime  lot  of  able-bodied  slaves,  men  and  women, 
fit  for  field-service,  with  a  few  extra  ones  calculated  for  house-servants, 
—  all  between  the  ages  of  fifteen  and  twenty-five  years;  but  like  most 
men  who  make  a  business  of  speculating  in  human  beings,  he  often 
bought  many  who  were  far  advanced  in  years,  and  would  try  to  pass  them 
oft'  for  five  or  six  years  younger  than  they  were.  Few  persons  can 
arrive  at  anything  approaching  the  real  age  of  the  negro,  by  mere  obser 
vation,  unless  they  are  well  acquainted  with  the  race.  Therefore,  the 
slave-trader  frequently  carried  out  the  deception  with  perfect  impunity. 

After  the  steamer  had  left  the  wharf  and  was  fairly  out  on  the  bosom 
of  the  broad  Mississippi,  the  speculator  called  his  servant  Pompey  to  him ; 
and  instructed  him  as  to  getting  the  negroes  ready  for  market.  Among 
the  forty  slaves  that  the  trader  had  on  this  occasion,  were  some  whose 
appearance  indicated  that  they  had  seen  some  years  and  had  gone 
through  considerable  service.  Their  gray  -hair  and  whiskers  at  once 
pronounced  them  to  be  above  the  ages  set  down  in  the  trader's  adver 
tisement.  Pompey  had  long  been  with  Jennings,  and  understood  his 
business  well,  and  if  he  did  not  take  delight  in  the  discharge  of  his 
dut}r,  he  did  it  at  least  with  a  degree  of  alacrity,  so  that  he  might  re 
ceive  the  approbation  of  his  master. 

Pomp,  as  he  was  usually  called  by  the  trader,  Avas  of  real  negro  blood, 
and  would  often  say,  Avhen  alluding  to  himself,  "  Dis  nigger  am  no  coun 
terfeit,  he  is  de  ginuine  artikle.  Dis  chile  is  none  of  your  haf-and-haf, 
dere  is  no  bogus  about  him." 

Pompey  was  of  low  stature,  round  face,  and,  like  m<3st  of  his  race, 
had  a  set  of  teeth,  which,  for  whiteness  and  beauty,  could  not  be  sur 
passed;  his  eyes  were  large,  lips  thick,  and  hair  short  and  woolly. 
Pompey  had  been  with  Jennings  so  long,  and  had  seen  so  much  of 
buying  and  selling  of  his  fellow-creatures,  that  he  appeared  perfectly 
indifferent  to  the  heart-rending  scenes  which  daily  occurred  in  his  pres 
ence.  Such  is  the  force  of  habit :  — 

"  Vice  is  a  monster  of  such  frightful  mien, 
That  to  be  hated,  needs  but  to  be  seen; 
But  seen  too  oft,  familiar  with  its  face, 
We  first  endure,  then  pity,  then  embrace." 

It  was  on  the  second  day  of  the  steamer's  voyage,  that  Pompey  se 
lected  five  of  the  oldest  slaves,  took  them  into  a  room  by  themselves, 
and  commenced  preparing  them  for  the  market. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  addressing  himself  to  the  company,  "  I  is  de  chap 
dat  is  to  get  you  ready  for  de  Orleans  market,  so  dat  you  will  bring 
marser  a  good  price.  How  old  is  you?  "  addressing  himself  to  a  man 
not  less  than  forty. 


12  CLOTELLE. 

u  If  I  live  to  see  next  s \veet-potato-digging  time,  I  shall  be  either 
forty  or  forty-five,  I  dou't  know  which." 

"Dat  may  be,"  replied  Pompey;  "but  now  you  is  only  thirty  years 
old,  —  dat's  whatmarscr  says  you  is  to  be." 

"  I  know  I  is  more  den  dat,"  responded  the  man. 

"I  can't  help  nuffin'  about  dat,"  returned  Pompey;  "but  when  you 
get  into  de  mai'ket  and  any  one  ax  you  how  old  you  is,  and  you  tell  um 
you  is  forty  or  forty-five,  marser  will  tie  you  up  and  cut  you  all  to 
pieces.  But  if  you  tell  um  dat  you  is  only  thirty,  den  he  won't.  Now 
remember  dat  you  is  thirty  years  old  and  no  more." 

"  Well  den,  I  guess  I  will  only  be  thirty  when  dey  ax  me." 

"  What's  your  name?  "  said  Pompey,  addressing  himself  to  another. 

"Jeems." 

"Oh!   Uncle  Jim,  is  it?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Den  you  must  have  all  them  gray  whiskers  shaved  off,  and  all  dem 
gray  hairs  plucked  out  of  your  head."  This  was  all  said  by  Pompey 
in  a  manner  which  showed  that  he  knew  what  he  was  about. 

"How  old  is  you?"  asked  Pompey  of  a  tall,  strong-looking  man. 
'"  What's  your  name?  " 

"  I  am  twenty-nine  years  old,  and  my  name  is  Tobias,  but  they  calls 
me  Toby." 

"  Well,  Toby,  or  Mr.  Tobias,  if  dat  will  suit  you  better,  you  are  now 
twenty-three  years  old;  dat's  all,  —  do  you  understand  dat?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Toby. 

Pompey  now  gave  them  all  to  understand  how  old  they  were  to  be 
when  asked  by  persons  who  were  likely  to  purchase,  and  then  went 
and  reported  to  his  master  that  the  old  boys  were  all  right. 

"Be  sure,"  said  Jennings,  "that  the  niggers  don't  forget  what  you 
have  taught  them,  for  our  luck  this  time  in  the  market  depends  upon 
their  appearance.  If  any  of  them  have  so  many  gray  hairs  that  you 
cannot  pluck  them  out,  take  the  blacking  and  brush,  and  go  at  them." 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE   BOAT-RACE. 

AT  eight  o'clock,  on  the  evening  of  the  third  day  of  the  passage,  the 
lights  of  another  steamer  were  seen  in  the  distance,  and  apparently 
coming  up  very  fast.  This  was  the  signal  for  a  general  commotion  on 
board  the  Patriot,  and  everything  indicated  that  a  steamboat-race  was 
at  hand.  Nothing  can  exceed  the  excitement  attendant  upon  the  racing 
of  steamers  on  the  Mississippi. 


CLOTELLE.  13 

By  the  time  the  boats  had  reached  Memphis  they  were  side  by  side, 
and  each  exerting  itself  to  get  in  advance  of  the  other.  The  night -was 
clear,  the  moon  shining  brightly,  and  th6  boats  so  near  to  each  other 
that  the  passengers  were  within  speaking  distance.  On  board  the  Pa 
triot  the  firemen  were  using  oil,  lard,  butter,  and  even  bacon,  with  wood, 
for  the  purpose  of  raising  the  steam  to  its  highest  pitch.  The  blaze 
mingled  with  the  black  smoke  that  issued  from  the  pipes  of  the  other 
boat,  which  showed  that  she  also  was  burning  something  more  com 
bustible  than  wood. 

The  firemen  of  both  boats,  who  were  slaves,  were  singing  songs  such 
as  can  only  be  heard  on  board  a  Southern  steamer.  The  boats  now 
came  abreast  of  each  other,  and  nearer  and  nearer,  until  they  were 
ocked  so  that  men  could  pass  from  one  to  the  other.  The  wildest  ex 
citement  prevailed  among  the  men  employed  on  the  steamers,  in  which 
the  passengers  freely  participated. 

The  Patriot  now  stopped  to  take  in  passengers,  but  still  no  steam  was 
permitted  to  escape.  On  the  starting  of  the  boat  again,  cold  water  was 
forced  into  the  boilers  by  the  feed-pumps,  and,  as  might  have  been  ex 
pected,  one  of  the  boilers  exploded  with  terrific  force,  carrying  away 
the  boiler-deck  and  tearing  to  pieces  much  of  the  machinery.  One 
dense  fog  of  steam  filled  every  part  of  the  vessel,  while  shrieks,  groans, 
and  cries  were  heard  on  every  side.  Men  were  running  hither  and 
thither  looking  for  their  wives,  and  women  were  flying  about  in  the 
wildest  confusion  seeking  for  their  husbands.  Dismay  appeared  on 
every  countenance. 

The  saloons  and  cabins  soon  looked  more  like  hospitals  than  any 
thing  else;  but  by  this  time  the  Patriot  had  drifted  to  the  shore,  and  the 
other  steamer  had  come  alongside  to  render  assistance  to  the  disabled 
boat.  The  killed  and  wounded  (nineteen  in  number)  were  put  on 
shore,  and  the  Patriot,  taken  in  tow  by  the  Washington,  was  once  more 
on  her  journey. 

It  was  half-past  twelve,  and  the  passengers,  instead  of  retiring  to 
their  berths,  once  more  assembled  at  the  gambling-tables.  The  practice 
of  gambling  on  the  western  waters  has  long  been  a  source  of  annoyance 
to  the  more  moral  persons  who  travel  on  our  great  rivers.  Thousands 
of  dollars  often  change  owners  during  a  passage  from  St.  Louis  or  Louis 
ville  to  New  Orleans,  on  a  Mississippi  steamer.  Many  men  are  com 
pletely  ruined  on  such  occasions,  and  duels  are  often  the  consequence, 

"  Go  call  my  boy,  steward,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  as  he  took  his  cards  one 
by  one  from  the  table. 

In  a  few  minutes  a  fine-looking,  bright-eyed  mulatto  boy,  apparently 
about  sixteen  years  of  age,  was  standing  by  his  master's  side  at  the 
table. 


14  CLO  TELLS. 

"  I  am  broke,  all  but  my  boy,"  said  Jones,  as  he  ran  lib  fingers 
through  his  cards;  "  but  he  is  worth  a  thousand  dollars,  and  I  will  bet 
the  half  of  him." 

"  I  will  call  you,"  said  Thompson,  as  he  laid  five  hundred  dollars  at 
the  feet  of  the  boy,  who  was  standing  on  the  table,  and  at  the  same 
time  throwing  down  his  cards  before  his  adversary. 

"  You  have  beaten  me,"  said  Jones;  and  a  roar  of  laughter  followed 
from  the  other  gentleman  as  poor  Joe  stepped  down  from  the  table. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  owe  you  half  the  nigger,"  said  Thompson,  as  he 
took  hold  of  Joe  and  began  examining  his  limbs. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Jones,  "  he  is  half  yours.  Let  me  have  five  hundred 
dollars,  and,  I  will  give  you  a  bill  of  sale  of  the  boy." 

"  Go  back  to  your  bed,"  said  Thompson  to  his  chattel,  "  and  remem 
ber  that  you  now  belong  to  me." 

The  poor  slave  wiped  the  tears  from  his  eyes,  as,  in  obedience,  he 
turned  to  leave  the  table. 

"  My  father  gave  me  that  boy,"  said  Jones,  as  he  took  the  money, 
"  and  I  hope,  Mr.  Thompson,  that  you  will  allow  me  to  redeem  him."  . 

"  Most  certainly,  sir,"  replied  Thompson.  "  Whenever  you  hand  over 
the  cool  thousand  the  negro  is  yours." 

Next  morning,  as  the  passengers  were  assembling  in  the  cabin  and  on 
deck,  and  while  the  slaves  were  running  about  waiting  on  or  looking  for 
their  masters,  poor  Joe  was  seen  entering  his  new  master's  stateroom, 
boots  in  hand. 

"Who  do  you  belong  to?"  inquired  a  gentleman  of  an  old  negro, 
who  passed  along  leading  a  fine  Newfoundland  dog  which  he  had  been 
feeding. 

"  When  I  went  to  sleep  las'  night,"  replied  the  slave,  "I 'longed  to 
Massa  Carr;  but  he  bin  gamblin'  all  night,  an'  I  don't  know  who  I 
'longs  to  dis  mornin'." 

Such  is  the  uncertainty  of  a  slave's  life.  He  goes  to  bed  at  night  the 
pampered  servant  of  his  young  master,  with  whom  he  has  played  ih 
childhood,  and  who  would  not  see  his  slave  abused  under  any  consid 
eration,  and  gets  up  in  the  morning  the  property  of  a  man  whom  he  has 
never  before  seen. 

To  behold  five  or  six  tables  in  the  saloon  of  a  steamer,  with  half  a 
dozen  men  playing  cards  at  each,  with  money,  pistols,  and  bowie-knives 
spread  in  splendid  confusion  before  then,  is  an  ordinary  thing  on  the 
Mississippi  River. 


CLOTELLE,  15 

CHAPTER    V. 

THE  YOUNG  MOTHER. 

ON  the  fourth  morning,  the  Patriot  landed  at  Grand  Gulf,  a  beautiful 
town  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Mississippi.  Among  the  numerous  passen 
gers  who  came  on  board  at  Rodney  was  another  slave-trader,  with  nine 
human  chattels  which  he  was  conveying  to  the  Southern  market.  The 
passengers,  both  ladies  and  gentlemen,  were  startled  at  seeing  among 
the  new  lot  of  slaves  a  woman  so  white  as  not  to  be  distinguishable 
from  the  other  white  women  on  board.  She  had  in  her  arms  a  child  so 
white  that  no  one  would  suppose  a  drop  of  African  blood  flowed  through 
its  blue  veins. 

No  one  could  behold  that  mother  with  her  helpless  babe,  without  feel 
ing  that'  God  would  punish  the  oppressor.  There  she  sat,  with  an  ex 
pressive  and  intellectual  forehead,  and  a  countenance  full  of  dignity 
and  heroism,  her  dark  golden  locks  rolled  back  from  her  almost  snow- 
white  forehead  and  floating  over  her  swelling  bosom.  The  tears  that 
stood  in  her  mild  blue  eyes  showed  that  she  was  brooding  over  sorrows 
and  wrongs  that  filled  her  bleeding  heart. 

The  hearts  of  the  passers-by  grew  softer,  while  gazing  upon  that 
young  mother  as  she  pressed  sweet  kisses  on  the  sad,  smiling  lips  of  the 
infant  that  lay  in  her  lap.  The  small,  dimpled  hands  of  the  innocent 
creature  were  slyly  hid  in  the  warm  bosom  on  which  the  little  one 
nestled.  The  blood  of  some  proud  Southerner,  no  doubt,  flowed 
through  the  veins  of  that  child. 

When  the  boat  arrived  at  Natches,  a  rather  good-looking,  genteel-ap 
pearing  man  came  on  board  to  purchase  a  servant.  This  individual 
introduced  himself  to  Jennings  as  the  Rev.  James  Wilson.  The  slave- 
trader  conducted  the  preacher  to  the  deck-cabin,  where  he  kept  his 
slaves,  and  the  man  of  God,  after  having  some  questions  answered,  se 
lected  Agnes  as  the  one  best  suited  to  his  service. 

It  seemed  as  if  poor  Marion's  heart  would  break  when  she  found  that 
she  was  to  be  separated  from  her  mother.  The  preacher,  however,  ap 
peared  to  be  but  little  moved  by  their  sorrow,  and  took  his  newly- 
purchased  victim  on  shore.  Agnes  begged  him  to  buy  her  daughter, 
but  he  refused,  on  the  ground  that  he  had  no  use  for  her, 

During  the  remainder  of  the  passage,  Marion  wept  bitterly. 

After  a  run  of  a  few  hours,  the  boat  stopped  at  Baton  Rouge,  where 
an  additional  number  of  passengers  were  taken  on  board,  among  whom 
were  a  number  of  persons  who  had  been  attending  the  races  at  that 
place.  Gambling  and  drinking  were  now  the  order  of  the  day. 

The  next  morning,  at  ten  o'clock,  the  boat  arrived  at  New  Orleans^ 


1  i  i  c  LO  T  i:  1. 1. i: . 

where  the  passengers  went  to  their  hotels  and  homes,  and  the  negroes  to 
the  slave-pens. 

Lizzie,  the  white  slave-mother,  of  whom  we  have  already  spoken, 
created  as  much  of  a  sensation  by  the  fairness  of  her  complexion  and 
the  alabaster  whiteness  of  her  child,  wh«n  being  conveyed  on  shore  at 
New  Orleans,  as  she  had  done  when  brought  on  board  at  Grand  Gulf. 
Kvery  one  that  saw  her  felt  that  slavery  in  the  Southern  States  was  not 
confined  to  the  negro.  Many  had  been  taught  to  think  that  slavery  was 
a  benefit  rather  than  an  injury,  and  those  who  were  not  opposed  to  the 
institution  before,  now  felt  that  if  whites  were  to  become  its  victims,  it 
was  time  at  least  that  some  security  should  be  thrown  around  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  to  save  him  from  this  servile  and  degraded  position. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE   SLAVE-MARKET. 

NOT  far  from  Canal  Street,  in  the  city  of  New  Orleans,  stands  a  large 
two-story,  flat  building,  surrounded  by  a  stone  wall  some  twelve  feet 
high,  the  top  of  which  is  covered  with  bits  of  glass,  and  so  constructed 
as  to  prevent  even  the  possibility  of  any  one's  passing  over  it  without 
sustaining  great  injury.  Many  of  the  rooms  in  this  building  resemble 
the  cells  of  a  prison,  and  in  a  small  apartment  near  the  "  office  "  are  to 
be  seen  any  number  of  iron  collars,  hobbles,  handcuffs,  thumbscrews, 
cowhides,  chains,  gags,  and  yokes. 

A  back-yard,  enclosed  by  a  high  wall,  looks  something  like  the  play 
ground  attached  to  one  of  our  large  New  England  schools,  in  which  are 
rows  of  benches  and  swings.  Attached  to  the  back  premises  is  a  good- 
sized  kHchen,  where,  at  the  time  of  which  we  write,  two  old  negresses 
were  at  work,  stewing,  boiling,  and  baking,  and  occasionally  wiping  the 
perspiration  from  their  furrowed  and  swarthy  brows. 

The  slave-trader,  Jennings,  on  his  arrival  at  New  Orleans,  took  up  his 
quarters  here  with  his  gang  of  human  cattle,  and  the  morning  after,  at 
10  o'clock,  they  were  exhibited  for  sale.  First  of  all  came  the  beautiful 
Marion,  whose  pale  countenance  and  dejected  look  told  how  many  sad 
hours  she  had  passed  since,  parting  with  her  mother  at  Natchez.  There, 
too,  was  a  poor  woman  who  had  been  separated  from  her  husband ;  and 
another  woman,  whose  looks  and  manners  were  expressive  of  deep 
anguish,  sat  by  her  side.  There  was  "  Uncle  Jeems,"  with  his  whis 
kers  off,  his  face  shaven  clean,  and  the  gray  hairs  plucked  out,  ready  to 
be  sold  for  ten  years  younger  than  he  was.  Toby  was  also  thpre,  with 
his  face  shaven  and  gre.ased?  ready  for  inspection. 


CLOTELLE.  17 

The  examination  commenced,  and  was  carried  on  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  shock  the  feelings  of  any  one  not  entirely  devoid  of  the  milk  of 
human  kindness. 

"What  are  you  wiping  your  eyes  for?"  inquired  a  fat,  red-faced 
man,  with  a  white  hat  set  on  one  side  of  his  head  and  a  cigar  in  his 
mouth,  of  a  woman  who  sat  on  one  of  the  benches. 

"  Because  I  left  my  man  behind." 

"  Oh,  if  I  buy  you,  I  will  furnish  you  with  a  better  man  than  you 
left.  I've  got  lots  of  young  bucks  on  my  farm." 

"  I  don't  want  and  never  will  have  another  man,"  replied  the  woman. 

"  What's  your  name?  "  asked  a  man  in  a  straw  hat  of  a  tall  negro 
who  stood  with  his  arms  folded  across  his  breast,  leaning  against  the 
wall. 

"  My  name  is  Aaron,  sar." 

"  How  old  are  you?  " 

"  Twenty-five." 

"  Where  were  you  raised?  " 

"  In  ole  Virginny,  sar." 

"  How  many  men  have  owned  you?  " 

"  Four." 

"  Do  you  enjoy  good  health?  " 

"  Yes,  sar." 

"  How  long  did  you  live  with  your  first  owner?  *• 

"  Twenty  years." 

"  Did  you  ever  run  away?  " 

"  No,  sar." 

u  Did  you  ever  strike  your  master?  " 

"  No,  sar." 

"  Were  you  ever  whipped  much?  " 

"  No,  sar;  I  s'pose  I  didn't  desarve  it,  sar." 

"  How  long  did  you  live  with  your  second  master?  " 

"  Ten  years,  sar." 

"  Have  you  a  good  appetite?  " 

"  Yes,  sar." 

"  Can  you  eat  your  allowance?  " 

"  Yes,  sar,  — when  I  can  get  it." 

"  Where  were  you  employed  in  Virginia?  " 

"  I  worked  de  tobacker  fiel'." 

"  In  the  tobacco  field,  eh?  " 

"  Yes,  sar." 

"  How  old  did  you  say  you  was?  " 

"  Twenty-five,  sar,  nex'  sweet-'tater-diggin'  time." 

"  I  am  a  cotton-planter,  and  if  I  buy  you,  you  will  have  to  work  in 
2 


18  GLOTELLE. 

the  cotton-field.  My  men  pick  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  a  day, 
and  the  women  one  hundred  and  forty  pounds ;  and  those  who  fail  to 
perform  their  task  receive  five  stripes  for  each  pound  that  is  wanting. 
Now,  do  you  think  you  could  keep  up  with  the  rest  of  the  hands?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  sar,  but  I  'specs  Id  have  to." 

"  How  long  did  you  live  with  your  third  master?  " 

"  Three  years,  sar." 

"  Why,  that  makes  you  thirty-three.  "_  thought  you  told  me  you  were 
only  twenty-five  ?" 

Aaron  now  looked  first  at  the  planter,  then  at  the  trader,  and  seemed 
perfectly  bewildered.  He  had  forgotten  the  lesson  given  him  by  Pompey 
relative  to  his  age;  and  the  planter's  circuitous  questions  —  doubtless  to 
find  out  the  slave's  real  age  —  had  thrown  the  negro  off  his  guard. 

"  I  must  see  your  back,  so  as  to  know  how  much  you  have  been 
whipped,  before  I  think  of  buying." 

Pompey,  who  had  been  standing  by  during  the  examination,  thought 
that  his  services  were  now  required,  and,  stepping  forth  with  a  degree 
of  officiousness,  said  to  Aaron,  — 

"  Don't  you  hear  de  gemman  tell  you  he  wants  to  'zamin  you.  Cum, 
unharness  yo'seff,  ole  boy,  and  don't  be  standin'  dar." 

Aaron  was  soon  examined,  and  pronounced  "sound;"  yet  the  con 
flicting  statement  about  his  age  was  not  satisfactory. 

Fortunately  for  Marion,  she  was  spared  the  pain  of  undergoing  such 
an  examination.  Mr.  Cardney,  a  teller  in  one  of  the  banks,  had  just 
been  married,  and  wanted  a  maid-servant  for  his  wife,  and,  passing 
through  the  market  in  the  early  part  of  the  day,  was  pleased  with  the 
young  slave's  appearance,  and  his  dwelling  the  quadroon  found  a  much 
better  home  than  often  falls  to  the  lot  of  a  slave  sold  in  the  New  Orleans 
market. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE   SLAVE-HOLDING  PARSON. 

THE  Rev.  James  Wilson  was  a  native  of  the  State  of  Connecticut, 
where  he  was  educated  for  the  ministry  in  the  Methodist  persuasion. 
His  father  was  a  strict  follower  of  John  Wesley,  and  spared  no  pains  in 
his  son's  education,  with  the  hope  that  he  would  one  day  be  as  renowned 
as  the  leader  of  his  sect.  James  had  scarcely  finished  his  education  at 
New  Haven,  when  he  was  invited  by  an  uncle,  then  on  a  visit  to  his 
father,  to  spend  a  few  months  at  Natchez  in  Mississippi.  Young  Wilson 
accepted  his  uncle's  invitation,  and  accompanied  him  to  the  South.  Few 
young  men,  and  especially  clergymen,  going  fresh  from  college  to  the 


CLOTELLE.  19 

South,  but  are  looked  upon  as  geniuses  in  a  small  way,  and  who  are  not 
invited  to  all  the  parties  in  the  neighborhood.  Mr.  Wilson  was  not  an 
exception  to  this  rule.  The  society  into  which  he  was  thrown,  on  his 
arrival  at  Natchez,  was  too  brilliant  for  him  not  to  be  captivated  by  it, 
and,  as  might  have  been  expected,  he  succeeded  in  captivating  a  plan 
tation  with  seventy  slaves  if  not  the  heart  of  the  lady  to  whom  it  be 
longed. 

Added  to  this,  he  became  a  popular  preacher,  and  had  a  large  congre 
gation  with  a  snug  salary.  Like  other  planters,  Mr.  Wilson  confided 
the  care  of  his  farm  to  Ned  Huckelby,  an  overseer  of  high  reputation  in 
his  way. 

The  Poplar  Farm,  as  it  was  called,  was  situated  in  a  beautiful  valley, 
nine  miles  from  Natchez,  and  near  the  Mississippi  River.  The  once  un 
shorn  face  of  nature  had  given  way,  and  the  farm  now  blossomed  with 
a  splendid  harvest.  The  neat  cottage  stood  in  a  grove,  where  Lombardy 
poplars  lift  their  tops  almost  to  prop  the  skies,  where  the  willow,  lo 
cust,  and  horse-chestnut  trees  spread  forth  their  branches,  and  flowers 
never  ceased  to  blossom. 

•  This  was  the  parson's  country  residence,  where  the  family  spent  only 
two  months  during  the  year.  His  town  residence  was  a  fine  villa,  seated 
on  the  brow  of  a  hill,  at  the  edge  of  the  city. 

It  was  in  the  kitchen  of  this  house  that  Agnes  found  her  new  home. 
Mr.  Wilson  was  every  inch  a  democrat,  and  early  resolved  that  "  his 
people,"  as  he  called  his  slaves,  should  be  well-fed  and  not  over-worked, 
and  therefore  laid  down  the  law  and  gospel  to  the  overseer  as  well  as  to 
the  slaves.  "  It  is  my  wish,"  said  he  to  Mr.  Carlingham,  an  old  school 
fellow  who  was  spending  a  few  days  with  him,  —  'k  It  is  my  wish  that 
a  new  system  be  adopted  on  the  plantations  in  this  State.  I  believe 
that  the  sons  of  Ham  should  have  the  gospel,  and  I  intend  that  mine 
shall  have  it.  The  gospel  is  calculated  to  make  mankind  better  and 
none 'should  be  without  it." 

"  What  say  you,"  said  Carlingham,  "  about  the  right  of  man  to  his 
liberty?" 

"  Now,  Carlingham,  you  have  begun  to  harp  again  about  men's  rights. 
I  really  wish  that  you  could  see  this  matter  as  I  do." 

"  I  regret  that  I  cannot  see  eye  to  eye  with  you,"  said  Carlingham. 
"1  am  a  disciple  of  Rousseau,  and  have  for  years  made  the  rights  of 
man  my  study,  and  I  must  confess  to  you  that  I  see  no  difference  be 
tween  white  and  black,  as  it  regards  liberty." 

"  Now,  my  dear  Carlingham,  would  you  really  have  the  negroes  enjoy 
the  same  rights  as  ourselves?  " 

"  I  would  most  certainly.    Look  at  our  great  Declaration  of  Inde- 


20  CLOTELLE. 

pendence !  look  even  at  the  Constitution  of  our  own  Connecticut,  and 
see  what  is  said  in  these  about  liberty." 

"  I  regard  all  this  talk  about  rights  as  mere  humbug.  The  Bible  is 
older  than  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  and  there  I  take  my  stand." 

A  long  discussion  followed,  in  which  both  gentlemen  put  forth  their 
peculiar  ideas  with  much  warmth  of  feeling. 

During  this  conversation,  there  was  another  person  in  the  room,  seated 
by  the  window,  who,  although  at  work,  embroidering  a  fine  collar,  paid 
minute  attention  to  what  was  said.  This  was  Georgiana,  the  only 
daughter  of  the  parson,  who  had  but  just  returned  from  Connecticut, 
where  she  had  finished  her  education.  She  had  had  the  opportunity  of 
contrasting  the  spirit  of  Christianity  and  liberty  in  New  England  with 
that  of  slavery  in  her  native  State,  and  had  learned  to  feel  deeply  for 
the  injured  negro. 

Georgiana  was  in  her  nineteenth  year,  and  had  been  much  benefited 
by  her  residence  of  five  years  at  the  North.  Her  form  was  tall  and 
graceful,  her  features  regular  and  well-defined,  and  her  complexion  was 
illuminated  by  the  freshness  of  youth,  beauty,  and  health. 

The  daughter  differed  from  both  the  father  and  visitor  upon  the  subject 
which  they  had  been  discussing  ;  and  as  soon  as  an  opportunity  offered, 
she  gave  it  as  her  opinion  that  the  Bible  was  both  the  bulwark  of  Chris 
tianity  and  of  liberty.  With  a  smile  she  said, — 

"  Of  course,  papa  will  overlook  my  difference  with  him.  for  although 
I  am  a  native  of  the  South,  I  am  by  education  and  sympathy  a  North 
erner." 

Mr.  Wilson  laughed,  appearing  rather  pleased  than  otherwise  at  the 
manner  in  which  his  daughter  had  expressed  herself.  From  this  Geor 
giana  took  courage  and  continued, — 

"  '  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself.'  This  single  passage  of 
Scripture  should  cause  us  to  have  respect  for  the  rights  of  the  slave. 
True  Christian  love  is  of  an  enlarged  and  disinterested  nature.  It  loves 
all  who  love  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  sincerity,  without  regard  to  color 
or  condition." 

"  Georgiana,  my  dear,  you  are  an  abolitionist,  —  your  talk  is  fanati 
cism!  "  said  Mr.  Wilson,  in  rather  a  sharp  tone;  but  the  subdued  look 
of  the  girl  and  the  presence  of  Carlingham  caused  him  to  soften  his 
language. 

Mr.  Wilson  having  lost  his  wife  by  consumption,  and  Georgiana  being 
his  only  child,  he  loved  her  too  dearly  to  say  more,  even  if  he  felt  dis 
posed.  A  silence  followed  this  exhortatian  from  the  young  Christian, 
but  her  remarks  had  done  a  noble  work.  The  father's  heart  was 
touched,  and  the  sceptic,  for  the  first  time,  was  viewing  Christianity  in 
its  true  light.  * 


CLOTELLE.  21 

CHAPTER     VIII. 

A  NIGHT   IN   THE    PARSON'S   KITCHEN. 

BESIDES  Agnes,  whom  Mr.  Wilson  had  purchased  from  the  slave-trader, 
Jennings,  he  kept  a  number  of  house-servants.  The  chief  one  of  these 
was  Sam,  who  must  be  regarded  as  second  only  to  the  parson  himself. 
If  a  dinner-party  was  in  contemplation,  or  any  company  was  to  be  invit 
ed,  after  all  the  arrangements  had  been  talked  over  by  the  minister  and 
his  daughter,  Sam  was  sure  to  be  consulted  on  the  subject  ty  "  Miss 
Georgy,"  as  Miss  Wilson  was  called  by  all  the  servants.  If  furniture, 
crockery,  or  anything  was  to  be  purchased,  Sam  felt  that  he  had  been 
slighted  if  his  opinion  was  not  asked.  As  to  the  marketing,  he  did  it  all. 
He  sat  at  the  head  of  the  servants'  table  in  the  kitchen,  and  was  master 
of  the  ceremonies.  A  single  look  from  him  was  enough  to  silence  any 
conversation  or  noise  among  the  servants  in  the  kitchen  or  in  any  other 
part  of  the  premises. 

There  is  hi  the  Southern  States  a  great  amount  of  prejudice  in  regard 
to  color,  even  among  the  negroes  themselves.  The  nearer  the  negro  or 
mulatto  approaches  to  the  white,  the  more  he  seems  to  feel  his  superi 
ority  over  those  of  a  darker  hue.  This  is  no  doubt  the  result  of  the 
prejudice  that  exists  on  the  part  of  the  whites  against  both  the  mulat- 
toes  and  the  blacks. 

Sam  was  originally  from  Kentucky,  and  through  the  instrumentality 
of  one  of  his  young  masters,  whom  he  had  to  take  to  school,  he  had 
learned  to  read  so  as  to  be  well  understood,  and,  owing  to  that  fact,  was 
considered  a  prodigy,  not  only  among  his  own  master's  slaves,  but  also 
among  those  of  the  town  who  knew  him.  Sam  had  a  great  wish  to  fol 
low  in  the  footsteps  of  his  master  and  be  a  poet,  and  was  therefore  often 
heard  singing  doggerels  of  his  own  composition. 

But  there  was  one  drawback  to  Sam,  and  that  was  his  color.  He 
was  one  of  the  blackest  of  his  race.  This  he  evidently  regarded  as  a 
great  misfortune ;  but  he  endeavored  to  make  up  for  it  in  dress.  Mr. 
Wijson  kept  his  house-servants  well  dressed,  and  as  for  Sam,  he  was  sel 
dom  seen  except  in  a  ruffled  shirt.  Indeed,  the  washerwoman  feared 
him  more  than  any  one  else  in  the  house. 

Agnes  had  been  inaugurated  chief  of  the  kitchen  department,  And  had 
a  general  supervision  of  the  household  affairs.  Alfred,  the  coachman, 
Peter,  and  Hetty  made  up  the  remainder  of  the  house-servants.  Besides 
these,  Mr.  Wilson  owned  eight  slaves  who  were  masons.  These  worked 
in  the  city.  Being  mechanics,  they  were  let  out  to  greater  advantage 
than  to  keep  them  on  the  farm. 

Every  Sunday  evening,  Mr.  Wilson's  servants,  including  the  brick- 


22  CLOTELLE. 


layers,  assembled  in  the  kitchen,  where  the  events  of  the  week  were 
fully  discussed  and  commented  upon.  It  was  on  a  Sunday  evening,  in 
the  month  of  June,  that  there  was  a  party  at  Mr.  Wilson's  house,  and, 
according  to  custom  in  the  Southern  States,  the  ladies  had  their  maid 
servants  with  them.  Tea  had  been  served  in  "  the  house,"  and  the  ser 
vants,  including  the  strangers,  had  taken  their  seats  at  the  table  in  the 
kitchen.  Sam,  being  a  "single  gentleman,"  was  unusually  attentive  to 
the  "  ladies  "  on  this  occasion.  He  seldom  let  a  day  pass  without  spend 
ing  an  hour  or  two  in  combing  and  brushing  his  "  har."  He  had  an 
idea  that  fresh  butter  was  better  for  his  hair  than  any  other  kind  of 
grease,  and  therefore  on  churning  days  half  a  pound  of  butter  had 
always  to  be  taken  out  before  it  was  salted.  When  he  wished  to  appear 
to  great  advantage,  he  would  grease  his  face  to  make  it  "  shiny." 
Therefore,  on  the  evening  of  the  party,  when  all  the  servants  were  at 
tbc  table,  Sam  cut  a  big  figure.  There  he  sat,  with  his  wool  well 
combed  and  buttered,  face  nicely  greased,  and  his  ruffles  extending 
five  or  six  inches  from  his  bosom.  The  parson  in  his  drawing-room  did 
not  make  a  more  imposing  appearance  than  did  his  servant  on  this  occa 
sion. 

"Ijisbin  had  my  fortune  tole  last  Sunday  night,"  said  Sam,  while 
helping  one  of  the  girls. 

"Indeed!  "  cried  half  a  dozen  voices. 

"Yes,"  continued  he;  "  Aunt  Winny  tole  me  I's  to  hab  de  prettiest 
yallah  gal  in  de  town,  and  dat  I's  to  be  free !  " 

All  eyes  were  immediately  turned  toward  Sally  Johnson,  who  was 
seated  near  Sam. 

"  I  'specs  I  see  somebody  blush  at  dat  remark,"  said  Alfred. 

"  Pass  dem  pancakes  an'  'lasses  up  dis  way,  Mr.  Alf.,  and  none  ob 
your  'sinuwashuns  here,"  rejoined  Sam. 

"  Dat  reminds  me,"  said  Agnes,  "  dat  Dorcas  Simpson  is  gwine  to  git 
married." 

"  Who  to,  I  want  to  know  ?  "  inquired  Peter. 

"  To  one  of  Mr.  Darby's  field-hands,"  answered  Agnes. 

"I  should  tink  dat  gal  wouldn't  frow  herseff  away  hi  dat  ar  way," 
said  Sally.  ''  She's  good  lookin'  'nough  to  git  a  house-servant,  and  not 
hab  to  put  up  wid  a  field-nigger. 

"Yes,"  said  Sam,  "dat's  a  werry  unsensible  remark  ob  yourn,  Miss 
Sally.  I  admires  your  judgment  werry  much,  I  'sures  you.  Dar's 
plenty  ob  susceptible  an'  well-dressed  house-serbants  dat  a  gal  ob  her 
looks  can  git  widout  takin'  up  wid  dem  common  darkies." 

The  evening's  entertainment  concluded  by  Sam's  relating  a  little  of 
his  own  experience  while  with  his  first  master,  in  old  Kentucky.  This 
master  was  a  doctor,  and  had  a  large.practice  among  his  neighbors,  doc- 


CLOTELLE.  25 

toring  both  masters  and  slaves.  When  Sam  was  about  fifteen  years  old, 
his  master  set  him  to  grinding  up  ointment  and  making  pills.  As  the 
young  student  grew  older  and  became  more  practised  in  his  profession, 
his  services  were  of  more  importance  to  the  doctor.  The  physician 
having  a  good  business,  and  a  large  number  of  his  patients  being  slaves, 
—  the  most  of  whom  had  to  call  on  the  doctor  when  ill,  —  he  put  Sam 
to  bleeding,  pulling  teeth,  and  administering  medicine  to  the  slaves. 
Sam  soon  acquired  the  name  among  the  slaves  of  the  "  Black  Doctor." 
With  this  appellation  he  was  delighted ;  and  no  regular  physician  could 
have  put  on  more  airs  than  did  the  black  doctor  when  his  services  were 
required.  In  bleeding,  he  must  have  more  bandages,  and  would  rub  and 
smack  the  arm  more  than  the  doctor  would  have  thought  of. 

Sam  was  once  seen  taking  out  a  tooth  for  one  of  his  patients,  and 
nothing  appeared  more  amusing.  He  got  the  poor  fellow  down  on  his 
back,  and  then  getting  astride  of  his  chest,  he  applied  the  turnkeys  and 
pulled  away  for  dear  life.  Unfortunately,  he  had  got  hold  of  the  wrong 
tooth,  and  the  poor  man  screamed  as  loud  as  he  could ;  but  it  was  to  no 
purpose,  for  Sam  had  him  fast,  and  after  a  pretty  severe  tussle  out  came 
the  sound  grinder.  The  young  doctor  now  saw  his  mistake,  but  con- 
soletf.  himself  with  the  thought  that  as  the  wrong  tooth  was  out  of  the 
way,  there  was  more  room  to  get  at  the  right  one. 

Bleeding  and  a  dose  of  calomel  were  always  considered  indispensable 
by  the  "  old  boss,"  and  as  a  matter  of  course,  Sam  followed  in  his  foot 
steps. 

On  one  occasion  the  old  doctor  was  ill  himself,  so  as  to  be  unable  to  at 
tend  to  his  patients.  A  slave,  with  pass  in  hand,  called  to  receive  medical 
advice,  and  the  master  told  Sam  to  examine  him  and  see  what  he  wanted. 
This  delighted  him  beyond  measure,  for  although  he  had  been  acting  his 
part  in  the  way  of  giving  out  medicine  as  the  master  ordered  it,  he  had 
never  been  called  upon  by  the  latter  to  examine  a-patient,  and  this  seemed 
to  convince  him  after  all  that  he  was  no  sham  doctor.  As  might  have 
been  expected,  he  cut  a  rare  figure  in  his  first  examination.  Placing 
himself  directly  opposite  his  patient,  and  folding  his  arms  across  his 
breast,  looking  very  knowingly,  he  began, — 

"  What's  de  matter  wid  you?  " 

"I  is  sick." 

"  Where  is  you  sick  ?  " 

"  Here,"  replied  the  man,  putting  his  hand  upon  his  stomach. 

"  Put  out  your  tongue,"  continued  the  doctor. 

The  man  ran  out  his  tongue  at  full  length. 

"  Let  me  feel  your  pulse;"  at  the  same  time  taking  his  patient's  hand 
in  his,  and  placing  his  fingers  upon  his  pulse,  he  said,  — 


26  CLOTELLE. 

"  Ah!  your  case  is  a  bad  one;  ef  I  don't  do  something  for  you,  and 
dat  pretty  quick,  you'll  be  a  gone  coon,  and  dat's  sartin." 

At  this  the  man  appeared  frightened,  and  inquired  what  -was  the  mat 
ter  with  him,  in  answer  to  which  Sam  said,  — 

"  I  done  told  dat  your  case  is  a  bad  one,  and  dat's  enuff." 

On  Sam's  returning  to  his  master's  bedside,  the  latter  said,  — 

"  Well,  Sam,  what  do  you  think  is  the  matter  with  him?  " 

"His  stomach  is  out  ob  order,  sar,"  he  replied. 

"  What  do  you  think  had  better  be  done  for  him?  " 

"  I  tink  I'd  better  bleed  him  and  gib  him  a  dose  ob  calomel,"  returned 
Sam. 

So,  to  the  latter'*  gratification,  the  master  let  him  have  his  own  way. 

On  one  occasion,  when  making  pills  and  ointment,  Sam  made  a  great 
mistake.  He  got  the  preparations  for  both  mixed  together,  so  that  he 
could  not  legitimately  make  either.  But  fearing  that  if  he  threw  the 
stuff  away,  his  master  would  flog  him,  and  being  afraid  to  inform  his 
superior  of  the  mistake,  he  resolved  to  make  the  whole  batch  of  pill  and 
ointment  stuff  into  pills.  He  well  knew  that  the  powder  over  the  pills 
would  hide  the  inside,  and  the  fact  that  most  persons  shut  their  eyes 
when  taking  such  medicine  led  the  youug  doctor  to  feel  that  all  would 
be  right  in  the  end.  Therefore  Sam  made  his  pills,  boxed  them  up,  put 
on  the  labels,  and  placed  them  in  a  conspicuous  position  on  one  of  the 
shelves. 

Sam  felt  a  degree  of  anxiety  about  his  pills,  however.  It  was  a  strange 
mixture,  and  he  was  not  certain  whether  it  would  kill  or  cure;  but  he 
was  willing  that  it  should  be  tried.  At  last  the  young  doctor  had  his 
vanity  gratified.  Col.  Tallen,  one  of  Dr.  Saxondale's  patients,  drove  up 
one  morning,  and  Sam  as  usual  ran  out  to  the  gate  lo  hold  the  colonel's 
horse. 

"  Call  your  master,"  said  the  colonel;  "  I  will  not  get  out." 

The  doctor  was  soon  beside  the  carriage,  and  inquired  about  the  health 
of  his  patient.  After  a  little  consultation,  the  doctor  returned  to  his 
office,  took  down  a  box  of  Sam's  new  pills,  and  returned  to  the  car 
riage. 

"  Take  two  of  these  every  morning  and  night,"  said  the  doctor,  "  and 
if  you  don't  feel  relieved,  double  the  dose." 

"  Good  gracious,"  exclaimed  Sam  in  an  undertone,  when  he  heard 
his  master  tell  the  colonel  how  to  take  the  pills. 

It  was  several  days  before  Sam  could  learn  the  result  of  his  new  med 
icine.  One  afternoon,  about  a  fortnight  after  the  colonel's  visit,  Sam 
saw  his  master's  patient  riding  up  to  the  gate  on  horseback.  The  doctor 
happened  to  be  in  the  yard,  and  met  the  colonel  and  said, — 

"  How  are  yon  now  ?  " 


CLOTELLE.  27 

"  I  am  entirely  recovered,"  replied  the  patient.  K  inose  pills  of  yours 
put  me  on  my  feet  the  next  day." 

"I  knew  they  would,"  rejoined  the  doctor. 

Sam  was  near  enough  to  hear  the  conversation,  and  was  delighted  be 
yond  description.  The  negro  immediately  ran  into  the  kitchen,  amongst 
his  companions,  and  commenced  dancing. 

"  What  de  matter  wid  you?  "  inquired  the  cook. 

"I  is  de  greatest  doctor  in  dis  country,"  replied  Sam.  "Ef  you  ever 
get  sick,  call  on  me.  No  matter  what  ails  you,  I  is  de  man  dat  can  cure 
you  in  no  time.  If  you  do  hab  de  backache,  de  rheumatics,  de  headache, 
de  coller  morbus,  fits,  er  any  ting  else,  Sam  is  de  gentleman  dat  can  put 
you  on  your  feet  wid  his  pills." 

For  a  long  time  after,  Sam  did  little  else  than  boast  of  his  skill  as  a 
doctor. 

We  have  said  that  the  "  black  doctor  "  was  full  of  wit  and  good  sense. 
Indeed,  in  that  respect,  he  had  scarcely  an  equal  in  the  neighborhood. 
Although  his  master  resided  some  little  distance  out  of  the  city,  Sam 
was  always  the  first  man  in  all  the  negro  balls  and  parties  in  town. 
When  his  master  could  give  him  a  pass,  he  went,  and  when  he  did  not 
give  him  one,  he  would  steal  away  after  his  master  had  retired,  and  run 
the  risk  of  being  taken  up  by  the  night-watch.  Of  course,  the  master 
never  knew  anything  of  the  absence  of  the  servant  at  night  without 
permission.  As  the  negroes  at  these  parties  tried  to  excel  each  other 
in  the  way  of  dress,  Sam  was  often  at  a  loss  to  make  that  appearance 
that  his  heart  desired,  but  his  ready  wit  ever  helped  him  in  this.  When 
his  master  had  retired  to  bed  at  night,  it  was  the  duty  of  Sam  to  put 
out  the  lights,  and  take  out  with  him  his  master's  clothes  and  boots,  and 
leave  them  in  the  office  until  morning,  and  then  black  the  boots,  brush 
the  clothes,  and  return  them  to  his  master's  room. 

Having  resolved  to  attend  a  dress-ball  one  night,  without  his  master's 
permission,  and  being  perplexed  for  suitable  garments,  Sam  determined 
to  take  his  master's.  So,  dressing  himself  in  the  doctor's  clothes,  even 
to  his  boots  and  hat,  off  the  negro  started  for  the  city.  Being  well  ac 
quainted  with  the  usual  walk  of  the  patrols  he  found  no  difficulty  in 
keeping  out  of  their  way.  As  might  have  been  expected,  Sam  was  the 
great  gun  with  the  ladies  that  night. 

The  next  morning,  Sam  was  back  home  long  before  his  master's  time 
for  rising,  and  the  clothes  were  put  in  their  accustomed  place.  For  a 
long  time  Sam  had  no  difficulty  in  attiring  himself  for  parties;  but  the 
old  proverb  that  "  It  is  a  long  lane  that  has  no  turning,"  was  verified  in 
the  negro's  case.  One  stormy  night,  when  the  rain  was  descending  in 
torrents,  the  doctor  heard  a  rap  at  his  door.  It  was  customary  with  him, 
'vhen  called  up  at  night  to  visit  a  patient,  to  ring  for  Sam.  But  this  time, 


28  CLOTELLE. 

the  servant  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  The  doctor  struck  a  light  and 
looked  for  clothes;  they,  too,  were  gone.  It  was  twelve  o'clock,  and 
the  doctor's  clothes,  hat,  boots,  and  even  his  watch,  were  nowhere  to 
be  found.  Here  was  a  pretty  dilemma  for  a  doctor  to  be  in.  It  was 
some  time  before  the  physician  could  fit  himself  out  so  as  to  make  the 
\\-.\\.  At  last,  however,  he  started  with  one  of  the  farm-horses,  for  Sam 
iiiid  taken  the  doctor's  best  saddle-horse.  The  doctor  felt  sure  that  the 
negro  had  robbed  him,  and  was  on  his  way  to  Canada;  but  in  this  he 
was  mistaken.  Sam  had  gone  to  the  city  to  attend  a  ball,  and  had 
decked  himself  out  in  his  master's  best  suit.  The  physician  returned 
before  morning,  and  again  retired  to  bed  but  with  little  hope  of  sleep, 
for  his  thoughts  were  with  his  servant  and  horse.  At  six  o'clock,  in 
walked  Sam  with  his  master's  clothes,  and  the  boots  neatly  blacked. 
The  watch  was  placed  on  the  shelf,  and  the  hat  in  its  place.  Sam  had 
not  met  any  of  the  servants,  and  was  therefore  entirely  ignorant  of  what 
had  occurred  during  his  absence. 

"  What  have  you  been  about,  sir,  and  where  was  you  last  night  when 
I  was  called?  "  said  the  doctor. 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.    I  'spose  I  was  asleep,"  replied  Sam. 

But  the  doctor  was  not  to  be  so  easily  satisfied,  after  having  been  put 
to  so  much  trouble  in  hunting  up  another  suit  without  the  aid  of  Sam. 
After  breakfast,  Sam  was  taken  into  the  barn,  tied  up,  and  severely 
flogged  with  the  cat,  which  brought  from  him  the  truth  concerning  his 
absence  the  previous  night.  This  forever  put  an  end  to  his  fine  appear 
ance  at  the  negro  parties.  Had  not  the  doctor  been  one  of  the  most  in 
dulgent  of  masters,  he  would  not  have  escaped  with  merely  a  severe 
whipping. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  Sam  had  to  relate  to  his  companions  that  eve 
ning  in  Mr.  Wilson's  kitchen  all  his  adventures  as  a  physician  while 
with  his  old  master. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE    MAN   OF    HONOR. 

AUGUSTINE  CARDINAY,  the  purchaser  of  Marion,  was  from  the  Green 
Mountains  of  Vermont,  and  his  feelings  were  opposed  to  the  holding  of 
slaves;  but  his  young  wife  persuaded  him  into  the  idea  that  it  was  no 
worse  to  own  a  slave  than  to  hire  one  and  pay  the  money  to  another. 
Hence  it  was  that  he  had  been  induced  to  purchase  Mai'ion. 

Adolphus  Morton,  a  young  physician  from  the  same  State,  and  who 
had  just  commenced  the  pi'actice  of  his  profession  in  New  Orleans,  was 
boarding  with  Cardinay  when  Marion  was  brought  home.  The  young 


CLOTELLE.  29 

physician  had  been  in  New  Orleans  but  a  very  few  weeks,  and  had  seen 
but  little  of  slavery.  In  his  own  mountain-home,  he  had  been  taught 
that  the  slaves  of  the  Southern  States  were  negroes,  and  if  not  from  the 
coast  of  Africa,  the  descendants  of  those  who  had  been  imported.  He 
was  unprepared  to  behold  with  composure  a  beautiful  white  girl  of  six 
teen  in  the  degraded  position  of  a  chattel  slave. 

The  blood  chilled  in  his  young  heart  as  he  heard  Cardinay  tell  how, 
by  bantering  with  the  trader,  he  had  bought  her  two  hundred  dollars 
less  than  he  first  asked.  His  very  looks  showed  that  she  had  the  deep  - 
est  sympathies  of  his  heart. 

Marion  had  been  brought  up  by  her  mother  to  look  after  the  domestic 
concerns  of  her  cottage  in  Virginia,  and  well  knew  how  to  perform  the 
duties  inposed  upon  her.  Mrs.  Cardinay  was  much  pleased  with  her 
new  servant,  and  often  mentioned  her  good  qualities  in  the  presence  of 
Mr.  Morton. 

After  eight  months  acquaintance  with  Marion,  Morton's  sympathies 
ripened  into  love,  which  was  most  cordially  reciprocated  by  the  friend 
less  and  injured  child  of  sorrow.  There  was  but  one  course  which  the 
young  man  could  honorably  pursue,  and  that  was  to  purchase  Marion 
and  make  her  his  lawful  wife;  and  this  he  did  immediately,  for  he 
found  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cardinay  willing  to  second  his  liberal  intentions. 

The  young  man,  after  purchasing  Marion  from  Cardinay,  and  marry 
ing  her,  took  lodgings  in  another  part  of  the  city.  A  private  teacher 
was  called  in,  and  the  young  wife  was  taught  some  of  those  accomplish 
ments  so  necessary  for  one  taking  a  high  position  in  good  society. 

Dr.  Morton  soon  obtained  a  large  and  influential  practice  in  his  pro 
fession,  and  with  it  increased  in  wealth;  but  with  all  his  wealth  he 
never  owned  a  slave.  Probably  the  fact  that  he  had  raised  his  wife 
from  that  condition  kept  the  hydra-headed  system  continually  before 
him.  To  the  credit  of  Marion  be  it  said,  she  used  every  means  to  ob 
tain  the  freedom  of  her  mother,  who  had  been  sold  to  Parson  Wilson,  at 
Natchez.  Her  efforts,  however,  had  come  too  late ;  fop.Agnes  had  died 
of  a  fever  before  the  arrival  of  Dr.  Morton's  agent. 

Marion  found  in  Adolphus  Morton  a  kind  and  affectionate  husband ; 
and  his  wish  to  purchase  her  mother,  although  unsuccessful,  had  doubly 
endeared  him  to  her.  Ere  a  year  had  elapsed  from  the  time  of  their 
marriage,  Mrs.  Morton  presented  her  husband  with  a  lovely  daughter, 
who  seemed  to  knit  their  hearts  still  closer  together.  This  child  they 
named  Jane;  and  before  the  expiration  of  the  second  year,  they  .were 
blessed  with  another  daughter,  whom  they  named  Adrika. 

These  children  grew  up  to  the  ages  of  ten  and  eleven,  and  were  then 
sent  to  the  North  to  finish  their  education,  and  receive  that  refinement 
which  young  ladies  cannot  obtain  in  the  Slave  States, 


30  CLOTELLE. 

CHAPTER    X. 

THE   QUADROON'S   HOME. 

A  FEW  miles  out  of  Richmond  is  a  pleasant  place,  with  here  and 
there  a  beautiful  cottage  surrounded  by  trees  so  as  scarcely  to  be  seen. 
Among  these  was  one  far  retired  from  the  public  roads,  and  almost 
hidden  among  the  trees.  This  was  the  spot  that  Henry  Linwood  had 
selected  for  Isabella,  the  eldest  daughter  of  Agnes.  The  young  man 
hired  the  house,  furnished  it,  and  placed  his  mistress  there,  and  for 
many  months  no  one  in  his  father's  family  knew  where  he  spent  his 
leisure  hours. 

When  Henry  was  not  with  her,  Isabella  employed  herself  in  looking 
after  her  little  garden  and  the  flowers  that  grew  in  front  of  her 
cottage.  The  passion-flower,  peony,  dahlia, laburnum,  and  other  plants, 
so  abundant  in  warm  climates,  under  the  tasteful  hand  of  Isabella, 
lavished  their  beauty  upon  this  retired  spot,  and  miniature  paradise. 

Although  Isabella  had  been  assured  by  Henry  that  she  should  be  free 
and  that  he  would  always  consider  her  as  his  wife,  she  nevertheless  felt 
that  she  ought  to  be  married  and  acknowledged  by  him.  But  this  was 
an  impossibility  under  the  State  laws,  even  had  the  young  man  been 
disposed  to  do  what  was  right  in  the  matter.  Related  as  he  was,  how 
ever,  to  one  of  the  first  families  in  Virginia,  he  would  not  have  dared  to 
many  a  woman  of  so  low  an  origin,  even  had  the  laws  been  favorable. 

Here,  in  this  Deluded  grove,  unvisited  by  any  other  except  her  lover, 
Isabella  .lived  for  years.  She  had  become  the  mother  of  a  lovely 
daughter,  which  its  father  named  Clotelle.  The  complexion  of  the 
uhild  was  still  fairer  than  that  of  its  mother.  Indeed,  she  was  not 
darker  than  other  white  children,  and  as  she  grew  older  she  more  and 
more  resembled  her  father. 

As  time  passed  away,  Henry  became  negligent  of  Isabella  and  his 
child,  so  much  so,  that  days  and  even  weeks  passed  without  their  seeing 
him,  or  knowingwhere  he  was.  Becoming  more  acquainted  with  the 
world,  and  moving  continually  in  the  society  of  young  women  of  his 
own  station,  the  young  man  felt  that  Isabella  was  a  burden  to  him,  and 
having  as  some  would  say,  "  outgrown  his  love,"  he  longed  to  free  him 
self  of  the  responsibility ;  yet  every  time  he  saw  the  child,  he  felt  that 
he  owed  it  his  fatherly  care. 

Henry  had  now  entered  into  political  life,  and  been  elected  to  a  seat 
in  the  legislature  of  his  native  State ;  and  in  his  intercourse  with  his 
friends  had  become  acquainted  with  Gertrude  Miller,  the  daughter  of  a 
wealthy  gentleman  living  near  Richmond.  Both  Henry  and  Gertrude 
were  very  good-looking,  and  a  mutual  attachment  sprang  up  between 
them. 


CLOTELLE.  81 

Instead  of  finding  fault  with  the  unfrequent  visits  of  Henry,  Isabella 
always  met  him  with  a  smile,  and  tried  to  make  both  him  and  herself 
believe  that  business  was  the  cause  of  his  negligence.  When  he  was 
with  her,  she  devoted  every  moment  of  her  time  to  him,  and  never 
failed  to  speak  of  the  growth  and  increasing  intelligence  of  Clotelle. 

The  child  had  grown  so  large  as  to  be  able  to  follow  its  father  on  his 
departure  out  to  the  road.  But  the  impression  made  on  Henry's  feel 
ings  by  the  devoted  woinan  and  her  child  was  momentary.  His  heart 
had  grown  hard,  and  his  acts  were  guided  by  no  fixed  principle.  Henry 
and  Gertrude  had  been  married  nearly  two  years  before  Isabella  knew 
anything  of  the  event,  and  it  was  merely  by  accident  that  she  became 
acquainted  with  the  facts. 

One  beautiful  afternoon,  when  Isabella  and  Clotelle  were  picking  wild 
strawberries  some  two  miles  from  their  home,  and  near  the  road-side, 
they  observed  a  one-horse  chaise  driving  past.  The  mother  turned  her 
face  from  the  carriage  not  wishing  to  be  seen  by  strangers,  little  dream 
ing  that  the  chaise  contained  Henry  and  his  wife.  The  child,  however, 
watched  the  chaise,  and  startled  her  mother  by  screaming  out  at  the 
top  of  her  voice,  "  Papa!  papa!  "  and  clapped  her  little  hands  for  joy. 
The  mothe»  turned  in  haste  to  look  at  the  strangers,  and  her  eyes  en 
countered  those  of  Henry's  pale  and  dejected  countenance.  Gertrude's 
eyes  were  on  the  child.  The  swiftness  with  which  Henry  drove  by 
could  not  hide  from  his  wife  the  striking  resemblance  of  the  child  to 
himself.  The  young  wife  had  heard  the  child  exclaim  "  Papa!  papa! " 
and  she  immediately  saw  by  the  quivering  of  his  lips  and  the  agitation 
depicted  in  his  countenance,  that  all  was  not  right. 

"  Who  is  that  woman?  and  why  did  that  child  call  you  papa?  "  she 
inquired,  with  a  trembling  voice. 

Henry  was  silent ;  he  knew  not  what  to  say,  and  without  another 
word  passing  between  them,  they  drove  home. 

On  reaching  her  room,  Gertrude  buried  her  face  in  her  handkerchief 
and  wept.  She  loved  Henry,  and  when  she  had  heard  from  the  lips  of 
her  companions  how  their  husbands  had  proved  false,  she  felt  that  he 
was  an  exception,  and  fervently  thanked  God  that  she  had  been  so 
blessed. 

When  Gertrude  retired  to  her  bed  that  night,  the  sad  scene  of  the 
day  followed  her.  The  beauty  of  Isabella,  with  her  flowing  curls,  and 
the  look  of  the  child,  so  much  resembling  the  man  whom  she  so  dearly 
loved,  could  not  be  forgotten ;  and  little  Clotelle's  exclamation  of  "  Papa ! 
papa! "  rang  in  her  ears  during  the  whole  night. 

The  return  of  Henry  at  twelve  o'clock  did  not  increase  her  happiness. 
Feeling  his  guilt,  he  had  absented  himself  from  the  house  since  his  re 
turn  from  the  ride. 


32  C  L  0  TEL  L  E. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

TO-DAY    A     MISTRESS,    TO-MORROW    A    SLAVE. 

THE  night  was  dark,  the  rain  descended  in  torrents  from  the  black 
and  overhanging  clouds,  and  the  thunder,  accompanied  with  vivid 
flashes  of  lightning,  resounded  fearfully,  ns  Henry  Linwood  stepped  from 
his  chaise  and  entered  Isabella's  cottage. 

More  than  a  fortnight  had  elapsed  since  the  accidental  meeting,  and 
Isabella  was  in  doubt  as  to  who  the  lady  was  that  Henry  was  with  in 
the  carriage.  Little,  however,  did  she  think  that  it  was  his  wife.  With 
a  smile,  Isabella  met  the  young  man  as  he  entered  her  little  dwelling. 
Clotelle  had  already  gone  to  bed,  but  her  father's  voice  aroused  her 
from  her  sleep,  and  she  was  soon  sitting  on  his  knee. 

The  pale  and  agitated  countenance  of  Henry  betrayed  his  uneasiness, 
but  Isabella's  mild  and  laughing  allusion  to  the.  incident  of  their  meet 
ing  him  on  the  day  of  his  pleasure-drive,  and  her  saying,  "I  presume, 
dear  Henry,  that  the  lady  was  one  of  your  relatives,"  led  him  to  believe 
that  she  was  still  in  ignorance  of  his  marriage.  She  was,  in  fact,  igno 
rant  who  the  lady  was  who  accompanied  the  man  she  loved  on  that 
eventful  day.  He,  aware  of  this,  now  acted  more  like  himself,  and 
passed  the  thing  off  as  a  joke.  At  heart,  however,  Isabella  felt  uneasy, 
and  this  uneasiness  would  at  times  show  itself  to  the  young  man.  At 
last,  and  with  a  great  effort,  she  said, — 

"  Now,  dear  Henry,  if  I  am  in  the  way  of  your  future  happiness,  say 
so,  and  I  will  release  you  from  any  promises  that  you  have  made  me. 
I  know  there  is  no  law  by  which  I  can  hold  you,  and  if  there  was,  I 
would  not  resort  to  it.  Yru  are  as  dear  to  me  as  ever,  and  my  thought  a 
shall  always  be  devoted  to  you.  It  would  be  a  great  sacrifice  for  me  to 
give  you  up  to  another,  but  if  it  be  your  desire,  as  great  as  the  sacrifice 
is,  I  will  make  it.  Send  me  and  your  child  into  a  Free  State  if  wo  are 
in  your  way." 

Again  and  again  Linwood  assured  her  that  no  woman  possessed  his 
love  but  her.  Oh,  what  falsehood  and  deceit  man  can  put  on  when 
dealing  with  woman's  love ! 

The  unabated  storm  kept  Henry  from  returning  home  until  after  the 
clock  had  struck  two,  and  as  he  drew  near  his  residence  he  saw  his  wife 
standing  at  the  window.  Giving  his  horse  in  charge  of  the  servant  who 
was  waiting,  he  entered  the  house,  and  found  his  wife  in  tears.  Al 
though  he  had  never  satisfied  Gertrude  as  to  who  the  quadroon  woman 
and  child  were,  he  had  kept  her  comparatively  easy  by  his  close  atten 
tion  to  her,  and  by  telling  her  that  she  was  mistaken  in  "regard  to  the 
child's  calling  him  "papa."  His  absence  that  night,  however,  without 


CLO-TELLE.  33 

any  apparent  cause,  had  again  aroused  the  jealousy  of  Gertrude;  but 
Henry  told  her  that  he  had  been  caught  in  the  rain  while  out,  which 
prevented  his  sooner  returning,  and  she,  anxious  to  believe  him,  received 
the  story  as  satisfactory. 

Somewhat  heated  with  brandy,  and  wearied  with  much  loss  of  sleep, 
Linwood  fell  into  a  sound  slumber  as  soon  as  he  retired.  Not  so  with 
Gertrude.  That  faithfulness  which  has  ever  distinguished  her  sex,  and 
the  anxiety  with  which  she  watched  all  his  movements,  kept  the 
wife  awake  while  the  husband  slept.  His  sleep,  though  apparently 
sound,  was  nevertheless  uneasy.  Again  and  again  she  heard  him  pro 
nounce  the  name  of  Isabella,  and  more  than  once  she  heard  him  say, 
"I  am  not  married;  I  will  never  many  while  you  live."  Then  lie 
would  speak  the  name  of  Olotelle  and  say,  "  My  dear  child,  how  I  love 
you !  " 

After  a  sleepless  night,  Gertrude  arose  from  her  couch,  resolved  that 
she  would  reveal  the  whole  matter  to  her  mother.  Mrs.  Miller  was  a 
woman  of  little  jor  no  feeling,  proud,  peevish,  and  passionate,  thus  mak 
ing  everybody  miserable  that  came  near  her;  and  when  she  disliked  any 
one,  her  hatred  knew  no  bounds.  This  Gertrude  knew ;  and  had  she 
not  considered  it  her  duty,  she  would  have  kept  the  secret  locked  in  her 
own  heart. 

During  the  day,  Mrs.  Linwood  visited  her  mother  and  told  her  all  that 
had  happened.  The  mother  scolded  the  daughter  for  not  having  in 
formed  her  sooner,  and  immediately  determined  to  find  out  who  the 
woman  and  child  were  that  Gertrude  had  met  on  the  day  of  her  ride. 
Three  days  were  spent  by  Mrs.  Miller  in  this  endeavor,  but  without  suc 
cess. 

Four  weeks  had  elapsed,  and  the  storm  of  the  old  lady's  temper  had 
somewhat  subsided,  when,  one  evening,  as  she  was  approaching  her 
daughter's  residence,  she  saw  Henry  walking  in  the  direction  of,  where 
the  quadroon  was  supposed  to*  reside.  Being  satisfied  that  the  young 
man  had  nof  seen  her,  the  old  woman  at  once  resolved  to  follow  him. 
Linwood's  boots  squeaked  so  loudly  that  Mrs.  Miller  had  no  difficulty 
in  following  him  without  being  herself  observed. 

After  a  walk  of  about  two  miles,  the  young  man  turned  into  a  narrow 
and  unfrequented  road,  and  soon  entered  the  cottage  occupied  by  Isa 
bella.  It  was  a  fine  starlight  night,  and  the  moon  was  just  rising  when 
they  got  to  their  journey's  end.  As  usual,  Isabella  met  Henry  with  a 
smile,  and  expressed  her  fears  regarding  his  health. 

Hours  passed,  and  still  old  Mrs.  Miller  remained  near  the  house,  de 
termined  to  know  who  lived  there.  When  she  undertook  to  ferret  out 
anything,  she  bent  her  whole  energies  to  it.  As  Michael  Angelo,  who 
subjected  all  things  to  his  pursuit  and  the  idea  he  had  formed  of  it, 


34  CLOTELLE. 

painted  the  crucifixion  by  the  side  of  a  writhing  slave  and  would  have 
broken  up  the  true  cross  for  pencils,  so  Mrs.  Miller  would  have  en 
tered  the  sepulchre,  if  she  could  have  done  it,  in  search  of  an  object 
she  wished  to  find. 

The  full  moon  had  risen,  and  was  pouring  its  beams  upon  surround 
ing  objects  as  Henry  stepped  from  Isabella's  door,  and  looking  at  his 
watch,  said,  — 

"  I  must  go,  dear;  it  is  now  half-past  ten." 

Had  little  Clotelle  been  awake,  she  too  would  have  been  at  the  door, 
As  Henry  walked  to  the  gate,  Isabella  followed  with  her  left  hand 
locked  in  his. .  Again  he  looked  at  his  watch,  and  said,  — 

"  I  must  go." 

"  It  is  more  than  a  year  since  you  staid  all  night,"  murmured  Isa 
bella,  as  he  folded  her  convulsively  in  his  arms,  and  pressed  upon  her 
beautiful  lips  a  parting  kiss. 

He  was  nearly  out  of  sight  when,  with  bitter  sobs,  the  quadroon  re 
traced  her  steps  to  the  door  of  the  cottage.  Clotelle  had  in  the  mean 
time  awoke,  and  now  inquired  of  her  mother  how  long  her  father  had 
been  gone.  At  that  instant,  a  knock  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  suppos 
ing  that  it  was  Henry  returning  for  something  he  had  forgotten,  as  he 
frequently  did,  Isabella  flew  to  let  him  in.  To  her  amazement,  how 
ever,  a  strange  woman  stood  in  the  door. 

"Who  are  you  that  comes  here  at  this  late  hour?"  demanded  the 
half-frightened  Isabella. 

Without  making  any  reply,  Mrs.  Miller  pushed  the  quadroon  aside, 
and  entered  the  house. 

"  What  do  you  want  here?  "  again  demanded  Isabella. 

"  I  am  in  search  of  you,"  thundered  the  maddened  Mrs.  Miller;  but 
thinking  that  her  object  would  be  better  served  by  seeming  to  be  kind, 
she  assumed  a  different  tone  of  voice,  and  began  talking  in  a  pleasing 
manner. 

In  this  way,  she  succeeded  in  finding  out  the  connection  existing  be 
tween  Linwood  and  Isabella,  and  after  getting  all  she  could  out  of  the 
unsuspecting  woman,  she  informed  her  that  the  man  she  so  fondly  loved 
had  been  married  for  more  than  two  years.  Seized  with  dizziness,  the 
poor,  heart-broken  woman  fainted  and  fell  upon  the  floor.  How  long 
she  remained  there  she  could  not  tell ;  but  when  she  returned  to  con 
sciousness,  the  strange  woman  was  gone,  and  her  child  was  standing  by 
her  side.  When  she  was  so  far  recovered  as  to  regain  her  feet,  Isabella 
went  to  the  door,  and  even  into  the  yard,  to  see  if  the  old  woman  was 
not  somewhere  about. 

As  she  stood  there,  the  full  moon  cast  its  bright  rays  over  her  whole 
person,  giving  her  a-  angelic  appearance  and  imparting  to  her  flowing 


CLOTELLE.  35 

hair  a  still  more  golden  hue.  Suddenly  another  change  came  over  her 
features,  and  her  full  red  lips  trembled  as  with  suppressed  emotion. 
The  muscles  around  her  faultless  mouth  became  convulsed,  she  gasped 
for  breath,  and  exclaiming,  "  Is  it  possible  that  man  can  be  so  false!  " 
again  fainted. 

Clotelle  stood  and  bathed  her  mother's  temples  with  cold  water  until 
she  once  more  revived. 

Although  the  laws  of  Virginia  forbid  the  education  of  slaves,  Agnes 
had  nevertheless  employed  an  old  free  negro  to  teach  her  two  daughters 
to  read  and  write.  After  being  separated  from  her  mother  and  sister, 
Isabella  turned  her  attention  to  the  subject  of  Christianity,  and  received 
that  consolation  from  the  Bible  which  is  never  denied  to  the  children 
of  God.  This  was  now  her  last  hope,  for  her  heart  was  torn  with 
grief  and  filled  with  all  the  bitterness  of  disappointment. 

The  night  passed  away,  but  without  sleep  to  poor  Isabella.    At  the 
dawn  of  day,  she  tried  to  make  herself  believe  that  the  whole  of  the 
past  night  was  a  dream,  and  determined  to  be  satisfied  with  the  expla-  , 
nation  which  Henry  should  give  on  his  next  visit. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

THE   MOTHER-IN-LAW. 

WHEN  Henry  returned  home,  he  found  his  wife  seated  at  the  window, 
awaiting  his  approach.  Secret  grief  was  gnawing  at  her  heart.  Her 
sad,  pale  cheeks  and  swollen  eyes  showed  too  well  that  agony,  far  deep 
er  than  her  speech  portrayed,  filled  her  heart.  A  dull  and  death-like 
silence  prevailed  on  his  entrance.  His  pale  face  and  brow,  dishevelled 
hair,  and  the  feeling  that  he  manifested  on  finding  Gertrude  still  up, 
told  Henry  in  plainer  words  than  she  could  have  used  that  his  wife 
was  aware  that  her  love  had  never  been  held  sacred  by  him.  The 
window-blinds  were  still  unclosed,  and  the  full-orbed  moon  shed  her 
soft  refulgence  over  the  unrivalled  scene,  and  gave  it  a  silvery  lustre 
which  sweetly  harmonized  with  the  silence  of  the  night.  The  clock's 
iron  tongue,  in  a  neighboring  belfry,  proclaimed  the  hour  of  twelve,  as 
the  truant  and  unfaithful  husband  seated  himself  by  the  side  of  his  de 
voted  and  loving  wife,  and  inquired  if  she  was  not  well. 

"  I  am,  dear  Henry,"  replied  Gertrude ;  "but  I  fear  you  are  not.  If 
well  in  body,  I  fear  you  are  not  at  peace  in  mind." 

"Why?"  inquired  he. 

"  Because,"  she  replied,  "  you  are  so  pale  and  have  such  a  wild  Jook 
in  your  eyes." 


36  ('  L  O  T  K  L  L  K . 

Again  he  protested  his  innocence,  and  vowed  she  was  the  only  woman 
who  had  any  claim  upon  his  heart.  To  behold  one  thus  playing  upon 
the  feelings  of  two  lovely  women  is  enough  to  make  us  feel  that  evil 
must  at  last  bring  its  own  punishment. 

Henry  and  Gertrude  had  scarcely  risen  from  the  breakfast-table  next 
morning  ere  old  Mrs.  Miller  made  her  appearance.  She  immediately 
took  her  daughter  aside,  and  informed  her  of  her  previous  night's  ex 
perience,  telling  her  how  she  had  followed  Henry  to  Isabella's  cottage, 
detailing  the  interview  with  the  quadroon,  and  her  late  return  home 
alone.  The  old  woman  urged  her  daughter  to  demand  that  the  quad 
roon  and  her  child  be  at  once  sold  to  the  negro  speculators  and  taken 
out  of  the  State,  or  that  Gertrude  herself  should  separate  from  Henry. 

"  Assert  your  rights,  my  dear.  Let  no  one  share  a  heart  that 
justly  belongs  to  you,"  said  Mrs.  Miller,  with  her  eyes  flashing  fire. 
"  Don't  sleep  this  night,  my  child,  until  that  wench  has  been  removed 
from  that  cottage  ;  and  as  for  the  child,  hand  that  over  to  me, — I  .saw 
at  once  that  it  was  Henry's." 

During  these  remarks,  the  old  lady  Avas  walking  up  and  down  the 
room  like  a  caged  lioness.  She  had  learned  from  Isabella  that  she  had 
been  purchased  by  Henry,  and  the  innocence  of  the  injured  quadroon 
caused  her  to  acknowledge  that  he  was  the  father  of  her  child.  Few 
women  could  have  taken  such  a  matter  in  hand  and  carried  it  through 
with  more  determination  and  success  than  old  Mrs.  Miller.  Completely 
inured  in  all  the  crimes  and  atrocities  connected  with  the  institution  of 
slavery,  she  was  also  aware  that,  to  a  greater  or  less  extent,  the  slave 
women  shared  with  their  mistress  the  affections  of  their  master.  This 
caused  her  to  look  with  a  suspicious  eye  on  every  good-looking  negro 
woman  that  she  saw. 

While  the  old  woman  was  thus  lecturing  her  daughter  upon  her  rights 
and  duties,  Henry,  unaware  of  what  was  transpiring,  had  left  the  house 
and  gone  to  his  office.  As  soon  as  the  old  woman  found  that  he  was 
gone,  she  said,  — 

"  I  will  venture  anything  that  he  is  on  his  way  to  Bee  that  wench 
again.  I'll  lay  my  life  on  it." 

The  entrance,  however,  of  little  Marcus,  or  Mark,  as  he  was  familiarly 
called,  asking  for  Massa  Linwood's  blue  bag,  satisfied  her  that  her  son- 
in-law  was  at  his  office.  Before  the  old  lady  returned  home,  it  was 
agreed  that  Gertrude  should  come  to  her  mother's  to  tea  that  evening, 
and  Henry  with  her,  and  that  Mrs.  Miller  should  there  charge  the  young 
*  husband  with  inconstancy  to  her  daughter,  and  demand  the  removal  of 
Isabella. 

With  this  understanding,  the  old  woman  retraced  her  steps  to  her  own 
dwelling. 


CLOTELLE.  37 

% 

Had  Mrs.  Miller  been  of  a  different  character  and  not  surrounded  by 
slavery,  she  could  scarcely  have  been  unhappy  in  such  a  home  as  hers. 
Just  at  the  edge  of  the  city,  and  sheltered  by  large  poplar-trees  was  the 
old  homestead  in  which  she  resided.  There  was  a  splendid  orchard  in 
the  rear  of  the  house,  and  the  old  weather-beaten  sweep,  with  "  the 
moss-covered  bucket "  at  its  end,  swung  majestically  over  the  deep 
well.  The  garden  was  scarcely  to  be  equalled.  Its  grounds  were  laid 
out  in  excellent  taste,  and  rare  exotics  in  the  greenhouse  made^it  still 
more  lovely. 

It  was  a  sweet  autumn  evening,  when  the  air  breathed  through  the 
fragrant  sheaves  of  grain,  and  the  setting  sun,  with  his  golden  kisses, 
burnished  the  rich  clusters  of  purple  grapes,  that  Henry  and  Gertrude 
were  seen  approaching  the  house  on  foot ;  it  was  nothing  more  than  a 
pleasant  walk.  Oh,  how  Gertrude's  heart  beat  as  she  seated  herself,  on 
their  arrival! 

The  beautiful  parlor,  surrounded  on  all  sides  with  luxury  and  taste, 
with  the  sun  creeping  through  the  damask  curtains,  added  a  charm  to 
the  scene.  It  was  in  this  room  that  Gertrude  had  been  introduced  to 
Henry,  and  the  pleasant  hours  that  she  had  spent  there  with  him  inished 
unbidden  on  her  memory.  It  was  here  that,  in  former  days,  her  beau 
tiful  countenance  had  made  her  appearance  as  fascinating  and  as  lovely 
as  that  of  Cleopatra's.  Her  sweet,  musical  voice  might  have  been 
heard  in  every  part  of  the  house,  occasionally  thrilling  you  with  an  un 
expected  touch.  How  changed  the  scene!  Her  pale  and  wasted 
features  could  not  be  lighted  up  by  any  thoughts  of  the  past,  and  she 
was  sorrowful  at  heart. 

As  usual,  the  servants  in  the  kitchen  were  in  ecstasies  at  the  an 
nouncement  that  "  Miss  Gerty,"  as  they  called  their  young  mistress, 
was  in  the  house,  for  they  loved  her  sincerely.  Gertrude  had  saved 
them  from  many  a  flogging,  by  interceding  for  them,  when  her  mother 
was*  in  one  of  her  uncontrollable  passions.  Dinah,  the  cook,  always  ex 
pected  Miss  Gerty  to  visit  the  kitchen  as  soon  as  she  came,  and  was  not 
a  little  displeased,  on  this  occasion,  at  what  she  considered  her  young 
mistress's  neglect.  Uncle  Tony,  too,  looked  regularly  for  Miss  Gerty 
to  visit  the  green  house,  and  congratulate  him  on  his  superiority  as  a 
gardener. 

When  tea  was  over,  Mrs.  Miller  dismissed  the  servants  from  the  room, 
then  told  her  son-in-law  what  she  had  witnessed  the  previous  night,  and 
demanded  for  her  daughter  that  Isabella  should  be  immediately  sent  out 
of  the  State,  and  to  be  sure  that  the  thing  would  be  done,  she  wanted 
him  to  give  her  the  power  to  make  such  disposition  of  the  woman  and 
child  as  she  should  think  best.  Gertrude  was  Mrs.  Miller's  only  child, 
and  Henry  felt  little  like  displeasing  a  family  upon  whose  friendship  he 


38  CLOTELLE. 

* 

so  much  depended,  and,  no  doubt,  long  wishing  to  free  himself  from  Isa 
bella,  he  at  once  yielded  to  the  demands  of  his  mother-in-law.  Mr. 
Miller  was  a  mere  cipher  about  his  premises.  If  any  one  carne  on  busi 
ness  connected  with  the  farm,  he  would  invariably  say,  "  Wait  till  I  see 
my  wife,"  and  the  wife's  opinion  was  sure  to  be  law  in  every  case. 
Bankrupt  in  character,  and  debauched  in  body  and  mind,  with  seven 
mulal  to  children  who  claimed  him  as  their  father,  he  was  badly  pre 
pared  £o  find  fault  with  his  son-in-law.  It  was  settled  that  Mrs.  Miller 
should  use  her  own  discretion  in  removing  Isabella  from  her  little  cot 
tage,  and  her  future  disposition.  With  this  understanding  Henry  and 
Gertrude  returned  home.  In  the  deep  recesses  of  his  heart  the  young 
man  felt  that  he  Avould  like  to  see  his  child  and  its  mother  once  more; 
but  fearing  the  wrath  of  his  mother-in-law,  he  did  not  dare  to  gratify 
his  inclination.  He  had  not  the  slightest  idea  of  what  would  become  of 
them ;  but  he  well  knew  that  the  old  woman  would  have  no  mercy  on 
them. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

A   HARD-HEARTED    WOMAN. 

WITH  no  one  but  her  dear  little  Clotelle,  Isabella  passed  her  weary 
hours  without  partaking  of  either  food  or  drink,  hoping  that  Henry 
would  soon  return,  and  that  the  strange  meeting  with  the  old  woman 
would  be  cleared  up. 

While  seated  in  her  neat  little  bedroom  with  her  fevered  face  buried 
in  her  handkerchief,  the  child  ran  in  and  told  its  mother  that  a  carriage 
had  stopped  in  front  of  the  house.  With  a  palpitating  heart  she  arose 
from  her  seat  and  went  to  the  door,  hoping  that  it  was  Henry ;  but,  to 
her  great  consternation,  the  old  lady  who  had  paid  her  such  an  uncer 
emonious  visit  on  the  evening  that  she  had  last  seen  Henry,  stepped  out 
of  the  carriage,  accompanied  by  the  slave-trader,  Jennings. 

Isabella  had  seen  the  trader  when  he  purchased  her  mother  and  sister, 
and  immediately  recognized  him.  What  could  these  persons  want 
there?  thought  she.  Without  any  parleying  or  word  of  explanation, 
the  two  entered  the  house,  leaving  the  carriage  in  charge  of  a  servant. 

Clotelle  ran  to  her  mother,  and  clung  to  her  dress  as  if  frightened  by 
the  strangers. 

"  She's  a  fine-looking  wench,"  said  the  speculator,  as  he  seated  him 
self,  unasked,  in  the  rocking-chair;  "  yet  I  don't  think  she  is  worth  the 
money  you  ask  for  her." 

"What  do  you  want  here?"  inquired  Isabella,  with  a  quivering 
voice. 


CLOTELLE.  89 

"  None  of  your  insolence  to  me,"  bawled  out  the  old  woman,  at  the 
top  of  her  voice ;  "  if  you  do,  I  will  give  you  what  you  deserve  so  much, 
my  lady,  —  a  good  whipping." 

In  an  agony  of  grief,  pale,  trembling,  and  ready  to  sink  to  the  floor, 
Isabella  Avas  only  sustained  by  the  hope  that  she  would  be  able  to  save 
her  child.  At  last,  regaining  her  self-possession,  she  ordered  them  both 
to  leave  the  house.  Feeling  herself  insulted,  the  old  woman  seized  the 
tongs  that  stood  by  the  fire-place,  and  raised  them  to  strike  the  quad 
roon  down;  but  the  slave-trader  immediately  jumped  between  the 
women,  exclaiming, — 

"  I  won't  buy  her,  Mrs.  Miller,  if  you  injure  her." 

Poor  little  Clotelle  screamed  as  she  saw  the  strange  woman  raise  the 
tongs  at  her  mother.  With  the  exception  of  old  Aunt  Nancy,  a  free 
colored  woman,  whom  Isabella  sometimes  employed  to  work  for  her, 
the  child  had  never  before  seen  a  strange  face  in  her  mother's  dwelling. 
Fearing  that  Isabella  would  offer  some  resistance,  Mrs.  Miller  had  or 
dered  the  overseer  of  her  own  farm  to  follow  her;  and,  just  as  Jennings 
had  stepped  between  the  two  women,  Mull,  the  negro-driver,  walked 
into  the  room. 

"  Seize  that  impudent  hussy,"  said  Mrs.  Miller  to  the  overseer,  "  and 
tie  her  up  this  minute,  that  I  may  teach  her  a  lesson  she  won't  forget  in 
a  hurry." 

As  she  spoke,  the  old  woman's  eyes  rolled,  her  lips  quivered,  and  she 
looked  like  a  very  fury. 

"  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  her,  if  you  whip  her,  Mrs.  Miller," 
said  the  slave-trader.  "  Niggers  ain't  worth  half  so  much  in  the  market 
with  their  backs  newly  scarred,"  continued  he,  as  the  overseer  com 
menced  his  preparations  for  executing  Mrs.  Miller's  orders. 

Clotelle  here  took  her  father's  walking-stick,  which  was  lying  on  the 
back  of  the  sofa  where  he  had  left  it,  and,  raising  it,  said,  — 

"  If  you  bad  people  touch  my  mother,  I  will  strike  you." 

They  looked  at  the  child  with  astonishment;  and  her  extreme  youth, 
wonderful  beauty,  and  uncommon  courage,  seemed  for  a  moment  to 
shake  their  purpose.  The  manner  and  language  of  this  child  were  alike 
beyond  her  years,  and  under  other  circtrr  stances  would  have  gained  for 
her  the  approbation  of  those  present. 

"  Oh,  Henry,  Henry !  "  exclaimed  Isabella,  wringing  her  hands. 

"  You  need  not  call  on  him,  hussy;  you  will  never  see  him  again," 
said  Mrs.  Miller. 

"  What!  is  he  dead?  "  inquired  the  heart-stricken  woman. 

It  was  then  that  she  forgot  her  own  situation,  thinking  only  of  the 
man  she  loved.  Never  having  been  called  to  endure  any  kind  of  abu 
sive  treatment j  Isabella  was  not  fitted  to  sustain  herself  against  the 


40  C  L  O  T  L  L  L  L. 

brutality  of  Mrs.  Miller,  much  less  the  combined  ferociousness  of  tho 
old  woman  and  the  overseer  too.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  instead  of  whip 
ping  Isabella,  Mrs.  Miller  transferred  her  to  the  negro-speculator,  who 
took  her  immediately  to  his  .slave-pen.  The  unfeeling  old  woman  would 
not  permit  Isabella  to  take  more  than  a  single  change  of  her  clothing, 
remarking  to  Jennings, — 

"I  sold  you  the  wench,  you  know,  —  not  her  clothes." 

The  injured,  friendless,  and  unprotected  Isabella  fainted  as  she  saw 
her  child  struggling  to  release  herself  from  the  arms  of  old  Mrs.  Miller, 
and  as  the  wretch  hoxed  the  poor  child's  ears. 

After  leaving  directions  as  to  how  Isabella's  furniture  and  other  effects 
should  be  disposed  of,  Mrs.  Miller  took  Clotelle  into  her  carriage  and 
drove  home.  There  was  not  even  color  enough  about  the  child  to  make 
it  appear  that  a  single  drop  of  African  blood  flowed  through  its  blue 
veins. 

Considerable  sensation  was  created  in  the  kitchen  among  the  servants 
when  the  carriage  drove  up,  and  Clotelle  entered  the  house. 

"  JeV  like  Massa  Henry  fur  all  de  worl',"  said  Dinah,  as  she  caught 
a  glimpse  of  the  child  through  the  window. 

"  Wondah  whose  brat  dat  ar'  dat  missis  bringin'  home  wid  her?" 
said  Jane,  as  she  put  the  ice  in  the  pitchers  for  dinner.  "  I  warrant  it's 
some  poor  white  nigger  somebody  bin  givin'  her." 

The  child  was  white.  What  should  be  done  to  make  it  look  like  other 
negroes,  was  the  question  which  Mrs.  Miller  asked  herself.  The  callous- 
hearted  old  woman  bit  her  nether  lip,  as  she  viewed  that  child,  standing 
before  her,  with  her  long,  dark  ringlets  clustering  over  her  alabaster 
brow  and  neck. 

"  Take  this  little  nigger  and  cut  her  hair  close  to  her  head,"  said  the 
mistress  to  Jane,  as  the  latter  answered  the  bell. 

Clotelle  screamed,  as  she  felt  the  scissors  grating  over  her  head,  and 
saw  those  curls  that  her  mother  thought  so  much  of  falling  upon  the 
floor. 

A  roar  of  laughter  burst  from  the  servants,  as  Jane  led  the  child 
through  the  kitchen,  with  tho  hair  cut  so  short  that  the  naked  scalp 
could  be  plainly  seen. 

"  'Gins  to  look  like  nigger,  now,"  said  Pjpah,  with  her  mouth  upon 
a  grin. 

The  mistress  smiled,  as  the  shorn  child  reentered  the  room ;  but  there 
was  something  more  needed.  Thq  child  was  white,  and  that  was  a  great 
objection.  However,  she  hit  upon  a  plan  to  remedy  this  which  seemed 
feasible.  The  day  was  excessively  warm.  Not  a  single  cloud  floated 
over  the  blue  vault  of  heaven;  not  a  breath  of  wind  seemed  moving, 
and  the  earth  was  parched  by  the  broiling  .van.  Kyen  the  bees  had 


CLOTELLE.  41 

stopped  humming,  and  the  butterflies  had  hid  themselves  under  the 
broad  leaves  of  the  burdock.  Without  a  morsel  of  dinner,  the  poor 
child  was  put  in  the  garden,  and  set  to  weeding  it,  her  arms,  neck,  and 
head  completely  bare.  Unaccustomed  to  toil,  Clotelle  wept  as  she  ex 
erted  herself  in  pulling  up  the  weeds.  Old  Dinah,  the  cook,  was  as 
unfeeling  as  her  mistress,  and  she  was  pleased  to  see  the  child  made  to 
work  in  the  hot  sun. 

"  Dat  white  nigger  '11  soon  be  brack  enuff  if  missis  keeps  her  workin' 
out  dar,"  she  said,  as  she  wiped  the  perspiration  from  her  sooty  brow. 

Dinah  was  the  mother  of  thirteen  children,  all  of  whom  had  been 
taken  from  her  when  young;  and  this,  no  doubt,  did  much  to  harden 
her  feelings,  and  make  her  hate  all  white  persons. 

The  burning  sun  poured  its  rays  on  the  face  of  the  friendless  child 
until  she  sank  down  in  the  corner  of  the  garden,  and  was  actually 
broiled  to  sleep. 

"  Dat  little  nigger  ain't  workin'  a  bit,  missus,"  said  Dinah  to  Mrs. 
Miller,  as  the  latter  entered  the  kitchen. 

"  She's  lying  in  the  sun  seasoning;  she  will  work  the  better  by  and 
by,"  replied  the  mistress. 

"  Dese  white  niggers  always  tink  dey  seff  good  as  white  folks,"  said 
the  cook. 

"Yes;  but  we  will  teach  them  better,  won't  we,  Dinah?"  rejoined 
Mrs.  Miller. 

"  Yes,  missus,"  replied  Dinah;  "I  don't  like  dese  merlatter  niggers, 
no  how.  Dey  always  want  to  set  dey  seff  up  for  sumfin'  big."  With 
this  remark  the  old  cook  gave  one  of  her  coarse  laughs,  and  continued : 
"Missis  understands  human  nature,  don't  she?  Ah!  ef  she  ain't  a 
whole  team  and  de  ole  gray  mare  to  boot,  den  Dinah  don't  know 
nuffin'." 

Of  course,  the  mistress  was  out  of  the  kitchen  before  'these  last  re 
marks  were  made. 

It  was  with  the  deepest  humiliation  that  Henry  learned  from  one  of 
his  own  slaves  the  treatment  which  his  child  was  receiving  at  the  hands 
of  his  relentless  mother-in-law. 

The  scorching  sun  had  the  desired  effect;  for  in  less  than  a  fortnight, 
Clotelle  could  scarcely  have  been  recognized  as  the  same  child.  Often 
was  she  seen  to  weep,  and  heard  to  call  on  her  mother. 

Mrs.  Miller,  when  at  church  on  Sabbath,  usually,  on  warm  days,  took 
Nancy,  one  of  her  servants,  in  her  pew,  and  this  girl  had  to  fan  her  mis 
tress  during  service.  Unaccustomed  to  such  a  soft  and  pleasant  seat, 
the  servant  would  very  soon  become  sleepy  and  begin  to  nod.  Some 
times  she  would  go  fast  asleep,  which  annoyed  the  mistress  exceeding 
ly,  But  Mrs.  Miller  had  nimble  fingers,  and  on  them  sharp  nails,  and, 


42  CLOTELLE. 

with  an  energetic  pinch  upon  the  bare  arms  of  the  poor  girl,  she  would 
arouse  the  daughter  of  Africa  from  her  pleasant  dreams.  But  there  was 
no  one  of  Mrs.  Miller's  servants  who  received  so  much  punishment  a3 
old  Uncle  Tony. 

Forfd  of  her  greenhouse,  and  often  in  the  garden,  she  was  ever  at  the 
old  gardener's  heels.  Uncle  Tony  was  very  religious,  and,  whenever 
his  mistress  flogged  him,  he  invariably  gave  her  a  religious  exhortation. 
Although  unable  to  read,  he,  nevertheless,  had  on  his  tongue's  end  por 
tions  of  Scripture  which  he  could  use  at  any  moment.  In  one  end  of 
the  greenhouse  was  Uncle  Tony's  sleeping  room,  and  those  who  hap 
pened  in  that  vicinity,  between  nine  and  ten  at  night,  could  hear  the  old 
man  offering  up  his  thanksgiving  to  God  for  his  protection  during  the 
day.  Uncle  Tony,  however,  took  great  pride,  when  he  thought  that  any 
of  the  whites  were  within  hearing,  to  dwell,  in  his  prayer,  on  his  own 
goodness  and  the  unfitness  of  others  to  die.  Often  was  he  heard  to  say, 
"  0  Lord,  thou  kuowest  that  the  white  folks  are  not  Christians,  but  the 
black  people  are  God's  own  children."  But  if  Tony  thought  that  his 
old  mistress  was  within  the  sound  of  his  voice,  he  launched  out  into 
deeper  water. 

It  was,  therefore,  on  a  sweet  night,  when  the  bright  stars  were  looking 
out  with  a  joyous  sheen,  that  Mark  and  two  of  the  other  boys  passed  the 
greenhouse,  and  heard  Uncle  Tony  in  his  devotions. 

"Let's  have  a  little  fun,"  said  the  mischievous  Marcus  to  his  young 
companions.  "  I  will  make  Uncle  Tony  believe  that  I  am  old  mistress, 
and  he'll  give  us  an  extra  touch  in  his  prayer."  Mark  immediately 
commenced  talking  in  a  strain  of  voice  resembling,  as  well  as  he  could, 
Mrs.  Miller,  and  at  once  Tony  was  heard  to  say  in  a  loud  voice,  tk  0 
Lord,  thou  knowest  that  the  white  people  are  not  fit  to  die;  but,  as  for  old 
Tony,  whenever  the  angel  of  the  Lord  comes,  he's  ready."  At  that  mo 
ment,  Mark  tapped  lightly  on  the  door.  "  Who's  dar?  "  thundered  old 
Tony.  Mark  made  no  reply.  The  old  man  commenced  and  went 
through  with  the  same  remarks  addressed  to  the  Lord,  when  Mark  again 
knocked  at  the  door.  "  Who  dat  dar?  "  asked  Uncle  Tony,  with  a  some 
what  agitated  countenance  and  trembling  voice.  Still  Mark  would  not 
reply.  Again  Tony  took  up  the  thread  of  his  discourse,  and  said,  "  0 
Lord,  thou  knowest  as  well  as  I  do  that  dese  white  folks  are  not  pre 
pared  to  die,  but  here  is  old  Tony,  when  de  angel  of  de  Lord  comes,  he's 
ready  to  go  to  heaven."  Mark  once  more  knocked  on  the  door.  "  Who 
dat  dar?  "  thundered  Tony  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

"  De  angel  of  de  Lord,"  replied  Mark,  in  a  somewhat  suppressed 
and  sepulchral  voice. 

"  What  de  angel  of  de  Lord  want  here  ?  "  inquired  Tony,  as  if  much 
frightened. 


CLOTELLE.  43 

"He's  come  for  poor  old  Tony,  to  take  him  out  of  the  world,"  replied 
Mark,  in  the  same  strange  voice. 

*'Dat  nigger  ain't  here;  he  die  tree  weeks  ago,"  responded  Tony,  in  a 
still  more  agitated  and  frightened  tone.  Mark  and  his  companions  made 
the  welkin  ring  with  their  shouts  at  the  old  man's  answer.  Uncle  Tony 
hearing  them,  and  finding  that  he  had  been  imposed  upon,  opened  his 
door,  came  out  with  stick  in  hand,  and  said,  "  Is  dat  you,  Mr.  Mark  ? 
you  imp,  if  I  can  get  to  you  I'll  larn  you  how  to  come  here  wid  your 
nonsense." 

Mark  and  his  companions  left  the  garden,  feeling  satisfied  that  Uncle 
Tony  was  not  as  ready  to  go  with  "  de  angel  of  de  Lord"  as  he  would 
have  others  believe. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

THE   PRISON. 

WHILE  poor  little 'Clotelle  was  being  kicked  about  by  Mrs.  Miller,  on 
account  of  her  relationship  to  her  son-in-law,  Isabella  was  passing  lone 
ly  hours  in  the  county  jail,  the  place  to  which  Jennings  had  removed 
her  for  safe-keeping,  after  purchasing  her  from  Mrs.  Miller.  Incarcer 
ated  in  one  of  the  iron-barred  rooms  of  that  dismal  place,  those  dark, 
glowing  eyes,  lofty  brow,  and  graceful  form  wilted  down  like  a  plucked 
rose  under  a  noonday  sun,  while  deep  in  her  heart's  ambrosial  cells  was 
the  most  anguishing  distress. 

Vulgar  curiosity  is  always  in  search  of  its  victims,  and  Jennings' 
boast  that  he  had  such  a  ladylike  and  beautiful  woman  in  'his  posses 
sion  brought  numbers  to  the  prison  who  begged  of  the  jailer  the  privi 
lege  of  seeing  the  slave-trader's  prize.  Many  who  saw  her  were  melted 
to  tears  at  the  pitiful  sight,  find  were  struck  with  admiration  at  her  in 
telligence;  and,  when  she  spoke  of  her  child,  they  must  Lave  been  con 
vinced  that  a  mother's  sorrow  can  be  conceived  by  none  but  a  mother's 
heart.  The  warbling  of  birds  in  the  green  bowers  of  bliss,  which  she 
occasionally  heard,  brought  no  tidings  of  gladness  to  her.  Their  joy  fell 
cold  upon  her  heart,  and  seemed  like  bitter  mockery.  They  reminded 
her  of  her  own  cottage,  where,  with  her  beloved  child,  she  had  spent  so 
many  happy  days. 

The  speculator  had  kept  close  watch  over  his  valuable  piece  of  prop 
erty,  for  fear  that  it  might  damage  itself.  This,  however,  there  was  no 
danger  of,  for  Isabella  still  hoped  and  believed  that  Henry  would  come 
to  her  rescue.  She  could  not  bring  herself  to  believe  that  he  would  al 
low  her  to  be  sent  away  without  at  least  seeing  her,  and  the  trader  did 
all  he  could  to  keep  this  idea  alive  in  her. 


44  CLOTELLE. 

While  Isabella,  with  a  weary  heart,  was  passing  sleepless  nights  think 
ing  only  of  her  daughter  and  Henry,  the  latter  was  seeking  relief  in 
that  insidious  enemy  of  the  human  race,  the  intoxicating  cup.  His 
wife  did  all  in  her  power  to  make  his  life  a  pleasant  and  a  happy  one, 
for  Gertrude  was  devotedly  attached  to  him;  but  a  weary  heart  gets  no 
gladness  out  of  sunshine.  The  secret  remorse  that  rankled  in  his  bosom 
caused  him  to  see  all  the  world  blood-shot.  He  had  not  visited  his 
mother-in-law  since  the  evening  he  had  given  her  liberty  to  use  her  own 
discretion  as  to  how  Isabella  and  her  child  should  be  disposed  of.  He 
feared  even  to  go  near  the  house,  for  he  did  not  wish  to  see  his  child. 
Gertrude  felt  this  every  time  he  declined  accompanying  her  to  her 
mother's.  Possessed  of  a  tender  and  confiding  heart,  entirely  unlike 
her  mother,  she  sympathized  deeply  Avith  her  husband.  She  well  knew 
that  all  young  men  in  the  South,  to  a  greater  or  less  extent,  became 
enamored  of  the  slave-women,  and  she  fancied  that  his  case  was  only 
one  of  the  many,  and  if  he  had  now  forsaken  all  others  for  her  she  did 
not  wish  for  him  to  be  punished ;  but  she  dared  not  let  her  mother  know 
that  such  were  her  feelings.  Again  and  again  had  she  noticed  the  great 
resemblance  between  Clotelle  and  Henry,  and  she  wished  the  child  in 
better  hands  than  those  of  her  cruel  mother. 

At  last  Gertrude  determined  to  mention  the  matter  to  her  husband. 
Consequently,  the  next  morning,  when  they  were  seated  on  the  back 
piazza,  and  the  sun  was  pouring  its  splendid  rays  upon  everything 
around,  changing  the  red  tints  on  the  lofty  hills  in  the  distance  into 
streaks  of  purest  gold,  and  nature  seeming  by  her  smiles  to  favor  the 
object,  she  said,  — 

"  What,  dear  Henry,  do  you  intend  to  do  with  Clotelle?  " 

A  paleness  that  overspread  his  countenance,  the  tears  that  trickled 
down  his  cheeks,  the  deep  emotion  that  was  visible  in  his  face,  and  the 
trembling  of  his  voice,  showed  at  once  that  she  had  touched  a  tender 
chord.  Without  a  single  word,  he  buried  his  face  in  his  handkerchief, 
and  burst  into  tears. 

This  made  Gertrude  still  more  unhappy,  for  she  feared  that  he  had 
misunderstood  her ;  and  she  immediately  expressed  her  regret  that  she 
had  mentioned  the  subject.  Becoming  satisfied  from  this  that  his  wife 
sympathized  with  him  in  his  unhappy  situation,  Henry  told  her  of  the 
agony  that  filled  his  soul,  and  Gertrude  agreed  to  intercede  for  him 
with  her  mother  for  the  removal  of  the  child  to  a  boarding-school  in 
one  of  the  Free  States. 

In  the  afternoon,  when  Henry  returned  from  his  office,  his  wife  met 
him  with  tearful  eyes,  and  informed  him  that  her  mother  was  filled  with 
rage  at  the  mere  mention  of  the  removal  of  Clotelle  from  her  premises. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  slave-trader,  Jennings,  had  started  for  the  South 


CLOTELLE.  45 

with  his  gang  of  human  cattle,  of  whom  Isabella  was  one.  Most  quad 
roon  women  who  are  taken  to  the  South  are  either  sold  to  gentlemen  for 
their  own  use  or  disposed  of  as  house-servants  or  waiting-maids.  For 
tunately  for  Isabella,  she  was  sold  for  the  latter  purpose.  Jennings 
found  a  purchaser  for  her  in  the  person  of  Mr.  James  French. 

Mrs.  French  was  a  severe  mistress.  All  who  lived  with  her,  though 
well-dressed,  were  scantily  fed  and  over- worked.  Isabella  found  her 
new  situation  far  different  from  her  Virginia  cottage-life.  She  had 
frequently  heard  Vicksburg  spoken  of  as  a  cruel  place  for  slaves,  and 
now  she  wa.s  in  a  position  to  test  the  truthfulness  of  the  assertion. 

A  few  weeks  after  her  arrival,  Mrs.  French  began  to  show  to  Isabella 
that  she  was  anything  but  a  pleasant  and  agreeable  mistress.  What 
social  virtues  are  possible  in  a  society  of  which  injustice  is  a  primary 
characteristic,  —  in  a  society  which  is  divided  into  two  classes,  masters 
and  slaves?  Every  married  woman  at  the  South  looks  upon  her  hus 
band  as  unfaithful,  and  regards  every  negro  woman  as  a  rival. 

Isabella  had  been  with  her  new  mistress  but  a  short  time  when  she 
was  ordered  to  cut  off  her  long  and  beautiful  hair.  The  negro  is  natu 
rally  fond  of  dress  and  outward  display.  He  who  has  short  woolly  hair 
combs  and  oils  it  to  death ;  he  who  has  long  hair  would  sooner  have  his 
teeth  drawn  than  to  part  with  it.  But,  however  painful  it  was  to 
Isabella,  she  was  soon  seen  with  her  hair  cut  short,  and  the  sleeves  of 
her  dress  altered  to  fit  tight  to  her  arms.  Even  with  her  hair  short  and 
with  her  ill-looking  dress,  Isabella  was  still  handsome.  Her  life  had 
been  a  secluded  one,  and  though  now  twenty-eight  years  of  age,  her 
beauty  had  only  assumed  a  quieter  tone.  The  other  servants  only 
laughed  at  Isabella's  misfortune  in  losing  her  beautiful  hair. 

"  Miss  'Bell  needn't  strut  so  big;  she  got  short  nappy  har  's  well 's  I," 
said  Nell,  with  a  broad  grin  that  showed  her  teeth. 

"  She  tmk  she  white  when  she  cum  here,  wid  dat  long  har  ob  hers," 
replied  Mill. 

"Yes,"  continued  Nell,  "missus  make  her  take  down  her  wool,  so 
she  no  put  it  up  to-day." 

The  fairness  of  Isabella's  complexion  was  regarded  with  envy  by  the 
servants  as  well  as  by  the  mistress  herself.  This  is  one  of  the  hard  fea 
tures  of  slavery.  To-day  a  woman  is  mistress  of  her  own  cottage ;  to 
morrow  she  is  sold  to  one  who  aims  to  make  her  life  as  intolerable  as 
possible.  And  let  it  be  remembered  that  the  .house-servant  has  the  best 
situation  a  slave  can  occupy. 

But  the  degradation  and  harsh  treatment  Isabella  experienced  in  her 
new  home  was  nothing  compared  to  the  grief  she  underwent  at  being 
separated  from  her  dear  child.  Taken  from  her  with  scarcely  a  mo 
ment's  warning,  she  knew  not  what  had  become  of  her. 


46  CLOTELLE. 

This  deep  and  heartfelt  grief  of  Isabella  was  soon  perceived  by  het 
owners,  and  fearing  that  her  refusal  to  take  proper  food  would  cause  her 
death,  they  resolved  to  sell  her.  Mr.  French  found  no  difficulty  in  secur 
ing  a  purchaser  for  the  quadroon  woman,  for  such  are  usually  the  most 
marketable  kind  of  property.  Isabella  was  sold  at  private  sale  to  a 
young  man  for  a  housekeeper;  but  even  he  had  missed  his  aim. 

Mr.  Gordon,  the  new  master,  was  a  man  of  pleasure.  He  was  the 
owner  of  a  large  sugar  plantation,  which  he  had  left  under  the  charge 
of  an  overseer,  and  was  now  giving  himself  up  to  the  pleasures  of  a  city 
life.  At  first  Mr.  Gordon  sought  to  win  Isabella's  favor  by  flattery  and 
presents,  knowing  that  whatever  he  gave  her  he  could  take  from  her 
again.  The  poor  innocent  creature  dreaded  every  moment  lest  the 
scene  should  change.  At  every  interview  with  Gordon  she  stoutly 
maintained  that  she  had  left  a  husband  in  Virginia,  and  could  never 
think  of  taking  another.  In  this  she  considered  that  she  was  truthful, 
for  she  had  ever  regarded  Henry  as  her  husband.  The  gold  watch  and 
chain  and  other  glittering  presents  which  Gordon  gave  to  her  were  all 
kept  unused. 

In  the  same  house  with  Isabella  was  a  man-servant  who  had  from 
time  to  time  hired  himself  from  his  master.  His  name  was  William. 
He  could  feel  for  Isabella,  for  he,  like  her,  had  been  separated  from  near 
and  dear  relatives,  and  he  often  tried  to  console  the  poor  woman.  One 
day  Isabella  observed  to  him  that  her  hair  was  growing  out  again. 

"  Yes,"  replied  William ;  "  you  look  a  good  deal  like  a  mun  with  your 
short  hair." 

"  Oh,"  rejoined  she,  "  I  have  often  been  told  that  I  would  make  a 
better  looking  man  than  woman,  and  if  I  had  the  money  I  might  avail 
myself  of  it  to  bid  farewell  to  this  place." 

In  a  moment  afterwards,  Isabella  feared  that  she  had  said  too  much, 
and  laughingly  observed,  "I  am  always  talking  some  nonsense;  you 
must  not  heed  me." 

William  was  a  tall,  full-blooded  African,  whose  countenance  beamed 
•with  intelligence.  Being  a  mechanic,  he  had  by  industry  earned  more 
money  than  he  had  paid  to  his  OAvner  for  his  time,  and  this  he  had  laid 
aside,  with  the  hope  that  he  might  some  day  get  enough  to  purchase  his 
freedom.  He  had  in  his  chest  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  His 
was  a  heart  that  felt  for  others,  and  he  had  again  and  again  wiped  the 
tears  from  his  eyes  while  listening  to  Isabella's  story. 

"  If  she  can  get  free  with  a  little  money,  why  not  give  her  what  I 
have?  "  thought  he,  and  then  resolved  to  do  it. 

An  hour  after,  he  eHtered  the  quadroon's  room,  and,  laying  the  money 
in  her  lap,  said,  — 

"There,  Miss  Isabella,  you  said  just  now  that  if  you  had  the  means 


CLOTELLE.  47 

you  would  leave  this  place.  There  is  money  enough  to  take  you  to 
England,  where  you  will  be  free.  You  are  much  fairer  than  many  of 
the  white  women  of  the  South,  and  can  easily  pass  for  a  free  white  wo 
man." 

At  first  Isabella  thought  it  was  a  plan  by  which  the  negro  wished  to 
t.y  her  fidelity  to  her  owner;  but  she  was  soon  convinced,  by  his  earnest 
manner  and  the  deep  feeling  he  manifested,  that  he  was  entirely  sin 
cere. 

"  I  will  take  the  money,"  said  she,  "  only  on  one  condition,  and  that 
is  that  I  effect  your  escape,  as  well  as  my  own." 

"  How  can  that  be  done?  "  he  inquired,  eagerly. 

"  I  will  assume  the  disguise  of  a  gentleman,  and  you  that  of  a  ser 
vant,  and  we  will  thus  take  passage  in  a  steamer  to  Cincinnati,  and  from 
thence  to  Canada." 

With  full  confidence  in  Isabella's  judgment,  William  consented  at  once 
to  the  proposition.  The  clothes  were  purchased ;  everything  was  ar 
ranged,  and  the  next  night,  while  Mr.  Gordon  was  on  one  of  his  sprees, 
Isabella,  under  the  assumed  name  of  Mr.  Smith,  with  William  in  attend 
ance  as  a  servant,  took  passage  for  Cincinnati  in  the  steamer  Heroine. 

With  a  pair  of  green  glasses  over  her  eyes,  in  addition  to  her  other  dis 
guise,  Isabella  made  quite  a  gentlemanly  appearance.  To  avoid  con 
versation,  however,  she  kept  closely  to  her  state-room,  under  the  plea  of 
illness. 

Meanwhile,  William  was  playing  his  part  well  with  the  servants. 
He  was  loudly  talking  of  his  master's  wealth,  and  nothing  on  the  boat 
appeared  so  good  as  in  his  master's  fine  mansion. 

"  I  don't  like  dese  steamboats,  no  how,"  said  he;  "I  hope  when  mas- 
sa  goes  on  anoder  journey,  he  take  de  carriage  and  de  bosses." 

After  a  nine-days'  passage,  the  Heroine  landed  at  Cincinnati,  and  Mr. 
Smith  and  his  servant  walked  on  shore. 

"  William,  you  are  now  a  free  man,  and  can  go  on  to  Canada,"  said 
Isabella;  "  I  shall  go  to  Virginia,  in  search  of  my  daughter." 

This  sudden  announcement  fell  heavily  upon  William's  ears,  and  with 
tears  he  besought  her  not  to  jeopardize  her  liberty  in  such  a  manner; 
but  Isabella  had  made  up  her  mind  to  rescue  her  child  if  possible. 

Taking  a  boat  for  Wheeling,  Isabella  was  soon  on  her  way  to  her  na 
tive  State.  Several  months  had  elapsed  'since  she  left  Richmond,  and 
all  her  thoughts  were  centred  on  the  fate  of  her  dear  Clotelle.  It  was 
with  a  palpitating  heart  that  this  injured  woman  entered  the  stage-coach 
at  Wheeling  and  set  out  for  Richmond. 


48  CLOTELLE. 


CHAPTER     XV. 

THE    ARREST. 

IT  was  late  in  the  evening  when  the  coach  arrived  at  Richmond,  and 
Isabella  once  more  alighted  in  her  native  city.  She  had  intended  to 
seek  lodgings  somewhere  in  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  but  the  lateness 
of  the  hour  compelled  her  to  stop  at  one  of  the  principal  hotels  for  the 
night.  She  had  scarcely  entered  the  inn  before  she  recognized  among 
the  numerous  black  servants  one  to  whom  she  was  well  known,  and  her 
only  hope  was  that  her  disguise  would  keep  her  from  being  discovered. 
The  imperturbable  calm  and  entire  forgetfulness  of  self  which  induced 
Isabella  to  visit  a  place  from  which  she  could  scarcely  hope  to  escape, 
to  attempt  the  rescue  of  a  beloved  child,  demonstrate  that  over-willing 
ness  of  woman  to  carry  out  the  promptings  of  the  finer  feelings  of  the 
heart.  True  to  woman's  nature,  she  had  risked  her  own  liberty  for  an 
other's.  She  remained  in  the  hotel  during  the  night,  and  the  next  morn 
ing,  under  the  plea  of  illness,  took  her  breakfast  alone. 

That  day  the  fugitive  slave  paid  a  visit  to  the  suburbs  of  the  town, 
and  once  more  beheld  the  cottage  in  which  she  had  spent  so  many  hap 
py  hours.  It  was  winter,  and  the  clematis  and  passion-flower  were  not 
there ;  but  there  were  the  same  walks  her  feet  had  so  often  pressed,  and 
the  same  trees  which  had  so  often  shaded  her  as  she  passed  through  the 
garden  at  the  back  of  the  house.  Old  remembrances  rushed  upon  her 
memory  and  caused  her  to  shed  tears  freely.  Isabella  was  now  in  her 
native  town,  and  near  her  daughter ;  but  how  could  she  communicate  with 
her  ?  how  could  she  see  her  ?  To  have  made  herself  known  would  have 
been  a  suicidal  act;  betrayal  would  have  followed,  and  she  arrested. 
Three  days  passed  away,  and  still  she  remained  in  the  hotel  at  which 
she  had  first  put  up,  and  yet  she  got  no  tidings  of  her  child. 

Unfortunately  for  Isabella,  a  disturbance  had  just  broken  out  among 
the  slave  population  in  the  State  of  Virginia,  and  all  strangers  were  treat 
ed  with  suspicion. 

The  insurrection  to  which  we  now  refer  was  headed  by  a  full-blooded 
negro,  who  had  been  born  and  brought  up  a  slave.  He  had  heard  the 
crack  of  the  driver's  whip,  and  seen  the  warm  blood  streaming  from  the 
negro's  body.  He  had  witnessed  the  separation  of  parents  from  chil 
dren,  and  was  made  aware,  by  too  many  proofs,  that  the  slave  could  ex 
pect  no  justice  from  the  hands  of  the  slave-owner.  The  name  of  this 
man  was  Nat  Turner.  He  was  a  preacher  amongst  the  negroes,  distin 
guished  for  his  eloquence,  respected  by  the  whites,  loved  and  venerated 
by  the  negroes.  On  the  discovery  of  the  plan  for  the  outbreak,  Turner 
fled  to  the  swamps,  followed  by  those  who  had  joined  in  the  insurrection. 


CLOTELLE.  49 

Here  the  revolted  negroes  numbered  some  hundreds,  and  for  a  time 
bade  defiance  to  their  oppressors.  The  Dismal  Swamps  cover  many 
thousand  acres  of  wild  land,  and  a  dense  forest,  with  wild  animals  and 
insects  such  as  are  unknown  in  any  other  part  of  Virginia.  Here  run 
away  negroes  usually  seek  a  hiding-place,  and  some  have  been  known  to 
reside  here  for  years.  The  revolters  were  joined  by  one  of  these.  He 
was  a  Targe,  tall,  full-blooded  negro,  with  a  stern  and  savage  counte 
nance;  the  marks  on  his  face  showed  that  he  was  from  one  of  the  barba 
rous  tribes  in  Africa,  and  claimed  that  country  as  his  native  land.  His 
only  covering  was  a  girdle  around  his  loins,  made  of  skins  of  wild  beasts 
which  he  had  killed.  His  only  token  of  authority  among  those  that  he  led 
was  a  pair  of  epaulettes,  made  of  the  tail  of  a  fox,  and  tied  to  his  shoulder 
by  a  cord.  Brought  from  the  coast  of  Africa,  when  only  fifteen  years  of  age, 
to  the  island  of  Cuba,  he  was  smuggled  from  thence  into  Virginia.  He 
had  been  two  years  in  the  swamps,  and  considered  it  his  future  hom§. 
He  had  met  a  negro  woman,  who  was  also  a  runawaj",  and,  after  the 
fashion  of  his  native  land,  had  gone  through  the  process  of  oiling  her,  as 
the  marriage  ceremony.  They  had  built  a  cave  on  a  rising  mound  in 
the  swamp,  and  this  was  their  home.  This  man's  name  was  Picquilo. 
His  only  weapon  was  a  sword  made  from  a  scythe  which  he  had  stolen 
from  a  neighboring  plantation.  .  His  dress,  his  character,  his  manners, 
and  his  mode  of  fighting  were  all  in  keeping  with  the  early  training  he 
had  received  in  the  land  of  his  birth.  He  moved  about  with  the  activity 
of  a  cat,  and  neither  the  thickness  of  the  trees  nor  the  depth  of  the  water 
could  stop  him.  His  was  a  bold,  turbulent  spirit;  and,  from  motives  of 
revenge,  he  imbrued  his  hands  in  the  blood  of  all  the  whites  he  could  meet. 
Hunger,  thirst,  and  loss  of  sleep,  he  seemed  made  to  endure,  as  if  by  pe 
culiarity  of  constitution.  His  air  was  fierce,  his  step  oblique,  his  look 
sanguinary. 

Such  was  the  character  of  one  of  the  negroes  in  the  Southampton  In 
surrection.  All  negroes  were  arrested  who  were  found  beyond  their 
master's  threshold,  and  all  white  strangers  were  looked  upon  with  sus 
picion. 

Such  was  the  position  in  which  Isabella  found  affairs  when  she  re 
turned  to  Virginia  in  search  of  her  child.  Had  not  the  slave-owners 
been  watchful  of  strangers,  owing  to  the  outbreak,  the  fugitive  could 
not  have  escaped  the  vigilance  of  the  police ;  for  advertisements  an 
nouncing  her  escape,  and  offering  a  large  reward  for  her  arrest,  had 
been  received  in  the  city  previous  to  her  arrival,  and  officers  were 
therefore  on  the  lookout  for  her. 

It  was  on  the  third  day  after  her  arrival  in  Richmond,  as  the  quad 
roon  was  seated  in  her  room  at  the  hotel,  still  in  the  disguise  of  a  gen 
tleman,  that  two  of  the  city  officers  entered  the  apartment  and  informed 
4 


50  t'l.O'TKLLE. 

her  that  they  were  authorized  to  examine  all  strangers,  to  assure  the 
authorities  that  they  were  not  in  league  with  the  revolted  negroes. 

With  trembling  heart  the  fugitive  handed  the  key  of  her  trunk  to  the 
officers.  To  their  surprise  they  found  nothing  but  female  apparel  in  the 
trunk,  which  raised  their  curiosity,  and  caused  a  further  investigation 
that  resulted  in  the  arrest  of  Isabella  as  a  fugitive  slave.  She  was  im 
mediately  conveyed  to  prison,  there  to  await  the  orders  of  her  master. 

For  many  days,  uncheered  by  the  voice  of  kindness,  alone,  hopeless, 
desolate,  she  waited  for  the  time  to  arrive  when  the  chains  should  be 
placed  on  her  limbs,  and  she  returned  to  her  inhuman  and  unfeeling 
owner. 

The  arrest  of  the  fugitive  was  announced  in  all  the  newspapers,  but 
created  little  or  no  sensation.  The  inhabitants  were  too  much  engaged 
in  putting  down  the  revolt  among  the  slaves ;  and,  although  all  the  odds 
were  against  the  insurgents,  the  whites  found  it  no  easy  matter,  with 
all  their  caution.  Every  day  brought  news  of  fresh  outbreaks.  With 
out  scruple  and  without  pity,  the  whites  massacred  all  blacks  found 
beyond  the  limits  of  their  owners'  plantations.  The  negroes,  in  return, 
set  fire  to  houses,  and  put  to  death  those  who  attempted  to  escape  from 
the  flames.  Thus  carnage  was  added  to  carnage,  and  the  blood  of  the 
whites  flowed  to  avenge  the  blood  of  the  blacks. 

These  were  the  ravages  of  slavery.  No  graves  were  dug  for  the  ne 
groes,  but  their  bodies  became  food  for  dogs  and  vultures;  and  their 
bones,  partly  calcined  by  the  sun,  remained  scattered  about,  as  if  to 
mark  the  mournful  fury  of  servitude  and  lust  of  power.  When  the 
slaves  were  subdued,  except  a  few  in  the  swamps,  bloodhounds  were 
employed  to  hunt  out  the  remaining  revolters. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

DEATH    IS    FREEDOM. 

ON  receiving  intelligence  of  the  arrest  of  Isabella,  Mr.  Gordon  author 
ized  the  sheriff  to  sell  her  to  the  highest  bidder.  She  was,  therefore, 
sold;  the  purchaser  being  the  noted  negro-trader,  Hope  H.  Slater,  who 
at  once  placed  her  in  prison.  Here  the  fugitive  saw  none  but  slaves  like 
herself,  brought  in  and  taken  out  to  be  placed  in  ships,  and  sent  away 
to  some  part  of  the  country  to  which  she  herself  would  soon  be  com 
pelled  to  go.  She  had  seen  or  heard  nothing  of  her  daughter  while  in 
Richmond,  and  all  hopes  of  seeing  her  had  now  fleJ. 

At  the  dusk  of  the  evening  previous  to  the  day  when  she  was  to  be 
sent  off,  as  the  old  prison  was  being  closed  for  the  night,  Isabella  snd- 


CLOTELLE.  51 

denly  darted  past  the  keeper,  and  ran  for  her  life.  It  was  not  a  great 
distance  from  the  prison  to  the  long  bridge  which  passes  from  the  lower 
part  of  the  city  across  the  Potomac  to  the  extensive  forests  and  wood 
lands  of  the  celebrated  Arlington  Heights,  then  occupied  by  that  distin 
guished  relative  and  descendant  of  the  immortal  Washington,  Mr.  Geo. 
W.  Custis.  Thither  the  poor  fugitive  directed  her  flight.  So  unex 
pected  was  her  escape  that  she  had  gained  several  rods  the  start  before 
the  keeper  had  secured  the  other  prisoners,  and  rallied  his  assistants  to 
aid  in  the  pursuit.  It  was  at  an  hour,  and  in  a  part  of  the  city  where 
horses  could  not  easily  be  obtained  for  the  chase ;  no  bloodhounds  were 
at  hand  to  run  down  the  flying  woman,  and  for  once  it  seemed  as  if 
there  was-  to  be  a  fair  trial  of  speed  and  endurance  between  the  slave 
and  the  slave-catchers. 

The  keeper  and  his  force  raised  the  hue-and-cry  on  her  path  as  they 
followed  close  behind ;  but  so  rapid  was  the  flight  along  the  wide  av 
enue  that  the  astonished  citizens,  as  they  poured  forth  from  their  dwell 
ings  to  learn  the  cause  of*  alarm,  were  only  able  to  comprehend  the 
nature  of  the  case  in  time  to  fall  in  with  the  motley  throng  in  pursuit,  or 
raise  an  anxious  prayer  to  heaven  as  they  refused  to  join  in  the  chase 
(as  many  a  one  did  that  night)  that  the  panting  fugitive  might  escape, 
and  the  merciless  soul-dealer  for  once  be  disappointed  of  his  prey.  And 
now,  with  the  speed  of  an  arrow,  having  passed  the  avenue,  with  the 
distance  between  her  and  her  pursuers  constantly  increasing,  this  poor, 
hunted  female  gained  the  "  Long  Bridge,"  as  it  is  called,  where  inter 
ruption  seemed'improbable.  Already  her  heart  began  to  beat  high  with 
the  hope  of  success.  She  had  only  to  pass  three-quarters  of  a  mile 
across  the  bridge,  when  she  could  bury  herself  in  a  vast  forest,  just  at 
the  time  when  the  curtain  of  night  would  close  around  her,  arid  protect 
her  from  the  pursuit  of  her  enemies. 

But  God,  by  his  providence,  had  otherwise  determined.  He  had  or-' 
dained  that  an  appalling  tragedy  should  be  enacted  that  night  within 
plain  sight  of  the  President's  house,  and  the  Capitol  of  the  Union,  which 
would  be  an  evidence  wherever  it  should  be  known  of  the  unconquera 
ble  love  of  liberty  which  the  human  heart  may  inherit,  as  well  as  a 
fresh  admonition  to  the  slave-dealer  of  the  cruelty  and  enormity  of  his 
crimes. 

Just  as  the  pursuers  passed  the  high  draw,  soon  after  entering  upon 
the  bridge,  they  beheld  three  men  slowly  approaching  from  the  Virginia 
side.  They  immediatejy  called  to  them  to  arrest  the  fugitive,  pro 
claiming  her  a  runaway  slave.  True  to  their  Virginia  instincts,  as  she 
came  near,  they  formed  a  line  across  the  narrow  bridge  to  intercept  her. 
Seeing  that  escape  was  impossible  in  that  quarter,  she  Btopped  suddenly, 
and  turned  upon  her  pursuers 


ft-  c L  o  '/•/•:  L  L  ;•;. 

On  cumc  the  profane  and  ribald  crew  faster  than  ever,  already  exult 
infill  her  capture,  and  threatening  punishment  for  her  flight.  Fora 
moment  she  looked  wildly  and  anxiously  around  to  see  if  there  was  no 
hope  of  escape.  On  cither  hand,  far  down  below,  rolled  the  deep,  foam 
ing  waters  of  the  Potomac,  and  before  and  behind  were  the  rapidly  ap 
proaching  steps  and  noisy  voices  of  her  pursuers.  Seeing  how  vain 
would  be  any  further  effort  to  escape,  her  resolution  was  instantly 
taken.  She  clasped  her  hands  convulsively  together,  raised  her  tearful 
and  imploring  eyes  toward  heaven,  and  begged  for  the  mercy  and  com 
passion  there  which  was  unjustly  denied  her  on  earth ;  then,  exclaim 
ing,  "  Henry,  Clotelle,  I  die  for  thee ! "  with  a  single  bound,  vaulted 
over  the  railing  of  the  bridge,  and  sank  forever  beneath  the  angry 
and  foaming  waters  of  the  river ! 

Such  was  the  life,  and  such  the  death,  of  a  woman  whose  virtues  and 
goodness  of  heart  would  have  done  honor  to  one  in  a  higher  station  of 
life,  and  who,  had  she  been  born  in  any  other  land  but  that  of  slavery, 
would  have  been  respected  and  beloved,  ty'hat  would  have  been  her 
feelings  if  she  could  have  known  that  the  child  for  whose  rescue  she 
had  sacrificed  herself  would  one  day  be  free,  honored,  and  loved  in 
another  land? 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

CLOTELLE. 

THE  curtain  rises  seven  years  after  the  death  of  Isabella.  During 
that  interval,  Henry,  finding  that  nothing  could  induce  his  mother-in- 
law  to  relinquish  her  hold  on  poor  little  Clotelle,  and  not  liking  to  con 
tend  with  one  on  whom  a  future  fortune  depended,  gradually  lost  all 
interest  in  the  child,  and  left  her  to  her  fate. 

Although  Mrs.  Miller  treated  Clotelle  with  a  degree  of  harshness 
scarcely  equalled',  when  applied  to  one  so  tender  in  years,  still  the  child 
grew  every  day  more  beautiful,  and  her  hair,  though  kept  closely  cut, 
seemed  to  have  improved  in  its  soft,  silk-like  appearance.  Now  twelve 
years  of  age,  and  more  than  usually  well-developed,  her  harsh  old  mis 
tress  began  to  view  her  with  a  jealous  eye. 

Henry  and  Gertrude  -had  just  returned  from  Washington,  where  the 
husband  had  been  on  his  duties  as  a  member  of  Congress,  and  where 
he  had  remained  during  the  preceding  three  years  without  returning 
nome.  It  was  on  a  beautiful  evening,  just  at  twilight,  while  seated  at 
his  parlor  window,  that  Henry  saw  a.  young  woman  pass  by  and  go  into 
the  kitchen.  Nof  aware  of  ever  haying  seen  the  porson  before,  he  w:u!u 


CLOTELLE.  55 

an  errand  into  the  cook's  department  to  see  who  the  girl  was.  He,  how 
ever,  met  her  in  the  hall,  as  she  was  about  going  out. 

"  Whom  did  you  wish  to  see?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Miss  Gertrude,''  was  the  reply. 

"  What  did  you  want  to  see  her  for?  "  be  again  asked. 

"  My  mistress  told  me  to  give  her  and  Master  Henry  her  compliments, 
and  ask  them  to  come  over  and  spend  the  evening." 

"  Who  is  your  mistress?  "  he  eagerly  inquired. 

"  Mrs.  Miller,  sir,"  responded  the  girl. 

"And  what's  your  name?  "  asked  Henry,  with  a  trembling  voice. 

"  Clotelle,  sir,"  was  the  reply. 

The  astonished  father  stood  completely  amazed,  looking  at  the  now 
womanly  form  of  her  who,  in  his  happier  days,  he  had  taken  on  his 
knee  with  so  much  fondness  and  alacrity.  It  was  then  that  he  saw  his 
own  and  Isabella's  features  combined  in  the  beautiful  face  that  he  was 
then  beholding.  It  was  then  that  he  was  carried  back  to  the  days  when 
with  a  woman's  devotion,  poor  Isabella  hung  about  his  neck  and  told 
him  how  lonely  were  the  hours  in  his  absence.  He  coiild  stand  it  no 
longer.  Tears  rushed  to  his  eyes,  and  turning  upon  his  heel,  he  went 
back  to  his  own  room.  It  was  then  that  Isabella  was  revenged ;  and 
she  no  doubt  looked  smilingly  down  from  her  home  in  the  spirit-land 
on  the  scene  below. 

On  Gertrude's  return  from  her  shopping  tour,  she  found  Henry  in  a 
melancholy  mood,  and  soon  learned  its  cause.  As  Gertrude  had  borne 
him  no  children,  it  was  but  natural,  that  he  should  now  feel  his  love 
centering  in  Clotelle,  and  he  now  intimated  to  his  wife  his  determina 
tion  to  remove  his  daughter  from  the  hands  of  his  mother-in-law. 

When  this  news  reached  Mrs.  Miller,  through  her  daughter,  she  be 
came  furious  with  rage,  and  calling  Clotelle  into  her  room,  stripped  her 
shoulders  bare  and  flogged  her  in  the  presence  of  Gertrude. 

It  was  nearly  a  week  after  the  poor  girl  had  been  so  severely  whipped 
and  for  no  cause  whatever,  that  her  father  learned  of  the  circumstance 
through  one  of  the  servants. .  With  a  degree  of  boldness  unusual  for 
him,  he  immediately  went  to  his  mother-in-law  and  demanded  his  child. 
But  it  was  too  late,  —  she  was  gone.  To  what  place  she  had  been  sent 
no  one  could  tell,  and  Mrs.  MiDer  refused  to  give  any  information 
whatever  relative  to  the  girl. 

It  was  then  that  Linwood  felt  deepest  the  evil  of  the  institution  under 
which  he  was  living;  for  he  knew  that  his  daughter  would  be  exposed 
to  all  the  vices  prevalent  in  that  part  of  the  country  where  marriage 
is  not  recognized  in  connection  with  that  class. 


56  CLOTELLE. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

A   SLAVE-HUNTIXG    PARSON. 

IT  was  a  delightful  evening  after  a  cloudless  day,  with  the  setting  sun 
reflecting  his  golden  rays  on  the  surrounding  hills  which  were  covered 
with  a  beautiful  greensward,  and  the  luxuriant  verdure  that  forms  the 
constant  garb  of  the  tropics,  that  the  steamer  Columbia  ran  into  the 
dock  at  Natchez,  and  began  unloading  the  cargo,  taking  in  passengers 
and  making  ready  to  proceed  on  her  voyage  to  New  Orleans.  .The 
plank  connecting  the  boat  with  the  shore  had  scarcely  been  secured  in 
its  place,  when  a  good-looking  man  about  fifty  years  of  age,  with  a 
white  neck-tie,  and  a  pair  of  gold-rimmed  glasses  on,  was  seen  hurrying 
on  board  the  vessel.  Just  at  that  moment  could  be  seen  a  stout  man 
with  his  face  pitted  with  the  small-pox,  making  his  way  up  to  the 
above-mentioned  gentleman. 

"  How  do  you  do,  my  dear  sir?  this  is  Mr.  Wilson,  I  believe,"  said 
the  short  man,  at  the  same  time  taking  from  his  mouth  a  large  chew 
of  tobacco,  and  throwing  it  down  on  the  ship's  deck. 

"  You  have  the  advantage  of  me,  sir,"  replied  the  tall  man. 

"Why,  don't  you  know  me?  My  name  is  Jennings;  I  sold  you  a 
splendid  negro  woman  some  years  ago." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  answered  the  Natchez  man.  "  I  remember  you  now,  for 
the  woman  died  in  a  few  months,  and  I  never  got  the  worth  of  my  money 
out  of  her." 

"  I  could  not  help  that,"  returned  the  slave-trader;  "  she  was  as  sound 
as  a  roach  when  I  sold  her  to  you." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  the  parson,  "  I  know  she  was;  but  now  I  want  a 
young  girl,  fit  for  house  use,  —  one  that  will  do  to  wait  on  a  lady." 

"I  am  your  man,"  said  Jennings,  "  just  follow  me,"  continued  he, 
"  and  I  will  show  you  the  fairest  little  critter  you  ever  saw."  And  the 
two  passed  to  the  stern  of  the  boat  to  where  the  trader  had  between 
fifty  and  sixty  slaves,  the  greater  portion  being  women. 

"  There,"  said  Jennings,  as  a  beautiful  young  woman  shrunk  back 
with  modesty.  "  There,  sir,  is  the  very  gal  that  was  made  for  you.  If 
she  had  been  made  to  your  order,  she  could  not  have  suited  you  better." 

"  Indeed,  sir,  is  not  that  young  woman  white?  "  inquired  the  parson. 

"  Oh,  no,  sir;  she  is  no  whiter  than  you  see!  " 

"  But  is  she  a  slave?  "  asked  the  preacher. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  trader,  "  I  bought  her  in  Richmond,  and  she  comes 
from  an  excellent  family.  She  was  raised  by  Squire"  Miller,  and  her  mis 
tress  was  one  of  the  most  pious  ladies  in  that  city,  I  may  say;  she  was 
the  salt  of  the  earth,  as  the  ministers  say." 


CLOTELLE.  57 

"  But  she  resembles  in  some  respect  Agnes,  the  woman  I  bought  from 
you,"  said  Mr.  Wilson.  As  he  said  the  name  of  Agnes,  the  young  wo 
man  started  as  if  shejiad  been  struck.  Her  pulse  seemed  to  quicken, 
but  her  face  alternately  flushed  and  turned  pale,  and  tears  trembled 
upon  her  eyelids.  It  was  a  name  she  had  heard  her  mother  mention, 
and  it  brought  to  her  memory  those  days,  —  those  happy  days,  when  she 
was  so  loved  and  caressed.  This  young  woman  was  Clotelle,  the  grand 
daughter  of  Agnes.  The  preacher,  on  learning  the  fact,  purchased  her, 
and  took  her  home,  feeling  that  his  daughter  Georgiana  would  prize  her 
very  highly.  Clotelle  found  in  Georgiana  more  a  sister  than  a  mistress, 
who,  unknown  to  her  father,  taught  the  slave-girl  how  to  read,  and  did 
much  toward  improving  and  refining  Clotelle's  manners,  for  her  own 
sake.  Like  her  mother  fond  of  flowers,  the  "  Virginia  Maid,"  as  she  was 
sometimes  called,  spent  many  of  her  leisure  hours  in  the  garden.  Beside 
the  flowers  which  sprang  up  from  the  fertility  of  soil  unplanted  and  un 
attended,  thefe  was  the  heliotrope,  sweet-pea,  and  cup-rose,  transplanted 
from  the  island  of  Cuba.  In  her  new  home  Clotelle  found  herself  salut 
ed  on  all  sides  by  the  fragrance  of  the  magnolia.  When  she  went  with 
her  young  mistress  to  the  Poplar  Farm,  as  she  sometimes  did,  nature's 
wild  luxuriance  greeted  her,  wherever  she  cast  her  eyes. 

The  rustling  citron,  lime,  and  orange,  shady  mango  with  its  fruits  of 
gold,  and  the  palmetto's  umbrageous  beauty,  all  welcomed  the  child  of 
sorrow.  When  at  the  farm,  Huckelby,  the  overseer,  kept  his  eye  on 
Clotelle  if  within  sight  of  her,  for  he  knew  she  was  a  slave,  and  no 
doubt  hoped  that  she  might  some  day  fall  into  his  hands.  But  she 
shrank  from  his  looks  as  she  would  have  done  from  the  charm  of  the 
rattlesnake.  The  negro-driver  always  tried  to  insinuate  himself  into  the 
good  opinion  of  Georgiana  and  the  company  that  she  brought.  Know 
ing  that  Miss  Wilson  at  heart  hated  slavery,  he  was  ever  trying  to  show 
that  the  slaves  under  his  charge  were  happy  and  contented.  One  day, 
when  Georgiana  and  some  of  her  Connecticut  friends  were  there,  the 
overseer  called  all  the  slaves  up  to  the  "  great  house,"  and  set  some  of 
the  young  ones  to  dancing.  After  awhile  whiskey  was  brought  in  and 
a  dram  given  to  each  slave,  in  return  for  which  they  were  expected  to 
give  a  toast,  or  sing  a  short  piece  of  his  own  composition ;  when  it  came 
to  Jack's  turn  he  said, —  ' 

"The  big  bee  flies  high,  the  little  bee  makes  the  honey:  the  black 
folks  make  the  cotton,  and  the  white  folks  gets  the  money." 

Of  course,  the  overseer  was  not  at  all  elated  with  the  sentiment  con 
tained  in  Jack's  toast.  Mr.  Wilson  had  lately  purchased  a  young  man 
to  assist  about  the  house  and  to  act  as  coachman.  This  slave,  whose 
name  was  Jerome,  was  of  pure  African  origin,  was  perfectly  black,  very 
fine-looking,  tall,  slim,  and  erect  as  any  one  could  possibly  be.  His 


58  C  L  0  r};  LIE. 

features  were  not  b;id,  lips  thin,  nose  prominent,  hands  and  feet  small. 
His  brilliant  black  eyes  lighted  up  his  whole  countenance.  His  hair 
which  was  nearly  straight,  hung  in  curls  upon  his  lofty  brow.  George 
Combe  or  Fowler  would  have  selected  his  head  for  a  model.  He  was 
brave  and  daring,  strong  in  person,  fiery  in  spirit,  yet  kind  and  true  in 
his  affections,  earnest  in  his  doctrines.  Clotelle  had  been  at  the  parson's 
but  a  few  weeks  when  it  was  observed  that  a  mutual  feeling  had  grown  up 
between  her  and  Jerome.  As  time  rolled  on,  they  became  more  and  more 
attached  to  each  other.  After  satisfying  herself  that  these  two  really 
loved,  Georgiana  advised  their  marriage.  But  Jerome  contemplated  his 
escape  at  some  future  day,  and  therefore  feared  that  if  married  it  might 
militate  against  it.  He  hoped,  also,  to  be  able  to  get  Clotelle  away  too, 
and  it  was  this  hope  that  kept  him  from  trying  to  escape  by  himself. 
Dante  did  not  more  love  his  Beatrice,  Swift  his  Stella,  Waller  his  Sac- 
charissa,  Goldsmith  his  Jessamy  bride,  or  Burns  his  Mary,  than  did 
Jerome  his  Clotelle.  Unknown  to  her  father,  Miss  Wilson 'Could  permit 
these  two  slaves  to  enjoy  more  privileges  than  any  of  the  other  servants. 
The  young  mistress  taught  Clotelle,  and  the  latter  imparted  her  instruc 
tions  to  her  lover,  until  both  could  read  so  as  to  be  well  understood. 
Jerome  felt  his  superiority,  and  always  declared  that  no  master  should 
ever  flog  him.  Aware  of  his  high  spirit  and  determination,  Clotelle 
was  in  constant  fear  lest  some  difficulty  might  arise  between  her  lover 
and  his  master. 

One  day  Mr.  Wilson,  being  somewhat  out  of  temper  and  irritated  at 
what  he  was  pleased  to  call  Jerome's  insolence,  ordered  him  to  follow 
him  to  the  barn  to  be  flogged.  The  young  slave  obeyed  his  master,  but 
those  who  saw  him  at  the  moment  felt  that  he  would  not  submit  to  be 
whipped. 

"  Xo,  sir,"  replied  Jerome,  as  his  master  told  him  to  take  off  his  coat: 
"  I  will  serve  you,  Master  Wilson,  I  will  labor  for  you  day  and  night,  if 
you  demand  it,  but  I  will  not  be  whipped." 

This  was  too  much  Jor  a  white  man  to  stand  from  a  negro,  and  the 
preacher  seized  his  slave  by  the  throat,  intending  to  choke  him.  But 
for  once  he  found  his  match.  Jerome  knocked  him  down,  and  then  es 
caped  through  the  back-yard  to  the  street,  and  from  thence  to  the  woods. 

Recovering  somewhat  from  the  effect  of  his  fall,  the  parson  regained 
his  feet  and  started  in  pursuit  of  the  fugitive.  Finding,  however,  that 
the  slave  was  bgyond  his  reach,  he  at  once  resolved  to  put  the  dogs  on 
his  track.  Tabor,  the  negro-catcher,  was  sent  for,  and  in  less  than  an 
hour,  eight  or  ten  men,  including  the  parson,  were  in  the  woods  with 
hounds,  trying  the  trails.  These  dogs  will  attack  a  negro  at  their  mas 
ter's  bidding;  and  cling  to  him  as  the  bull-dog  will  cling  to  a  beast. 
Many  are  the  speculations  as  to  whether  the  negro  will  be  secured  alive 


CLOT  ELL  E.  61 

or  dead,  when  these  dogs  once  get  on  his  track.  Whenever  there  is  to 
be  a  negro  hunt,  there  is  no  lack  of  participants.  Many  go  to  enjoy  the 
fun  which  it  is  said  they  derive  from  these  scenes. 

The  company  had  been  in  the  woods  but  a  short  time  ere  they  got  on 
the  track  of  two  fugitives,  one  of  whom  was  Jerome.  The  slaves  im- 
madiately  bent  their  steps  toward  the  swamp,  with  the  hope  that  the 
dogs,  when  put  upon  their  scent  would  be  unable  to  follow  them  through 
the  water. 

The  slaves  then  took  a  straight  course  for  the  Baton  Rouge  and  Bayou 
Sara  road,  about  four  miles  distant.  Nearer  and  nearer  the  whimper 
ing  pack  pressed  on;  their  delusion  begins  to  dispel.  All  at  once  the 
truth  flashes  upon  the  minds  of  the  fugitives  like  a  glare  of  light, —  'tis 
•Tabor  with  his  dogs ! 

The  scent,  becomes  warmer  and  wanner,  and  what  was  at  first  an  ir 
regular  cry  now  deepens  into  one  ceaseless  roar,  as  the  relentless  pack 
presses  on  after  its  human  prey. 

They  at  last  reach  the  river,  and  in  the  negroes  plunge,  followed  by  the 
catch-dog.  Jerome  is  caught  and  is  once  more  in  the  hands  of  his  mas 
ter,  while  the  other  poor  fellow  finds  a  watery  grave.  They  return,  and 
the  preacher  sends  his  slave  to  jail. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

THE    TRUE     HEROINE. 

IN  vain  did  Georgiana  try  to  console  Clotelle,  when  the  latter  heard, 
through  one  of  the  other  slaves,  that  Mr.  Wilson  had  started  with  the 
dogs  in  pursuit  of  Jerome.  The- poor  girl  well  knew  that  he  would  be 
caught,  and  that  severe  punishment,  if  not  death,  would  be  the  result 
of  his  capture.  It  was  therefore  with  a  heart  filled  with  the  deepest 
grief  that  the  slave-girl  heard  the  footsteps  of  her  master  on  his  return 
from  the  chase.  The  dogged  and  stern  manner  of  the  preacher  forbade 
even  his  daughter  inquiring  as  to  the  success  of  his  pursuit.  Georgiana 
secretly  hoped  that  the  fugitive  had  not  been  caught;  she  wished  it  for 
the  sake  of  the  slave,  and  more  especially  for  her  maid-servant,  whom 
she  regarded  more  as  a  companion  than  a  menial.  But  the  news  of  the 
capture  of  Jerome  soon  spread  through  the  parson's  household,  and 
found  its  way  to  the  ears  of  the  weeping  and  heart'  stricken  Clotelle. 

The  reverend  gentleman  h:;d  not  been  home  more  than  an  hour  ere 
some  of  his  parishioners  called  to  know  if  they  should  not  take  the 
negro  from  the  prison  and  execute  Lynch  law  upon  him. 

"  No  negro  should  be  permitted  to  live  after  striking  a  white  man;  let 


62  CLOTELLE. 

us  take  him  and  hang  him  at  once,"  remarked  an  elderly-looking  man, 
whose  gray  hairs  thinly  covered  the  crown  of  his  head. 

"  I  think  the  deacon  is  right,"  said  another  of  the  company;  "if  our 
slaves  are  allowed  to  set  the  will  of  their  masters  at  defiance,  there  will 
be  no  getting  along  with  them,  T— an  insurrection  will  be  the  next  thing 
we  hear  of." 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  preacher;  "I  am  willing  to  let  the  law  take  its 
course,  as  it  provides  for  the  punishment  of  a  slave  with  death  if  he 
strikes  his  master.  We  had  better  let  the  court  decide  the  question. 
Moreover,  as  a  Christian  and  God-fearing  people,  we  ought  to  submit  to 
the  dictates  of  justice.  Should  we  take  this  man's -life  by  force}  an 
Allwise  Providence  would  hold  us  responsible  for  the  act." 

The  company  then  quietly  withdrew,  showing  that  the  preacher  had 
some  influence  with  his  people. 

"  This,"  said  Mr.  Wilson,  when  left  alone  with  his  daughter,  —  "  this, 
my  dear  Georgiana,  is  the  result  of  your  kindness  to  the  negroes.  You 
have  spoiled  every  one  about  the  house.  I  can't  whip  one  of  them, 
without  being  in  danger  of  having  my  life  taken." 

"I  am  sure,  papa,"  replied  the  young  lady,  —  "I  am  sure  I  never  did 
any  thing  intentionally  to  induce  any  of  the  servants  to  disobey  your 
orders." 

u  No,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Wilson,  "  but  you  are  too  kind  to  them. 
Now,  there  is  Clotelle, — that  girl  is  completely  spoiled.  She  walks  about 
the  house  with  as  dignified  an  air  as  if  she  was  mistress  of  the  premi 
ses.  By  and  by  you  will  be  sorry  for  this  foolishness  of  yours." 

"  But,"  answered  Georgiana,  "  Clotelle  has  a  superior  mind,  and  God 
intended  her  to  hold  a  higher  position  in  life  than  that  of  a  servant." 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  and  it  was  your  letting  her  know  that  she  was  in 
tended  for  a  better  station  in  society  that  is  spoiling  her.  Always  keep 
a  negro  in  ignorance  of  what  you  conceive  to  be  his  abilities,"  returned 
the  parson. 

It  was  late  on  the  Saturday  afternoon,  following  the  capture  of 
Jerome  that,  while  Mr.  Wilson  was  seated  in  his  study  preparing  his 
tsermon  for  the  next  day,  Georgiana  entered  the  room  and  asked  in  an 
excited  tone  if  it  were  true  that  Jerome  was  to  be  hanged  on  the  follow 
ing  Thursday. 

The  minister  informed  her  that  such  was  the  decision  of  the  court. 

"  Then,"  said  she,  "  Clotelle  will  die  of  grief." 

"  What  business  has  she  to  die  of  grief?  "  returned  the  father,  his 
«yes  at  the  moment  flashing  fire. 

"  She  has  neither  eaten  nor  slept  since  he  was  captured,"  replied 
Georgiana;  "and  I  am  certain^that  she  will  not  live  through  this." 

"I  cannot  be  disturbed  now,"  said  the  parson;"!  must  get  my 


CLOTELLE.  65 

sermon  ready  for  to-morrow.    I  expect  to  have  some  strangers  to  preach 
to,  and  must,  therefore,  prepare  a  sermon  that  will  do  me  credit." 
While  the  man  of  God  spoke,  he  seemed  to  say  to  himself, — 

4<  "With  devotion's  visage,  and  pious  actions, 
We  do  sugar  over  the  devil  himself. " 

Georgiana  did  all  in  her  power  to  soothe  the  feelings  of  Clotelle,  and 
to  induce  her  to  put  her  trust  in  God.  Unknown  to  her  father,  she 
allowed  the  poor  girl  to  go  every  evening  to  the  jail  to  see  Jerome,  and 
during  these  visits,  despite  her  own  grief,  Clotelle  would  try  to  comfort 
her  lover  with  the  hope  that  justice  would  be  meted  out  to  him  in  the 
spirit-land. 

Thus  the  time  passed  on,  and  the  day  was  fast  approaching  when  the 
slave  was  to  die.  Having  heard  that  some  secret  meeting  hat!  been  held 
by  the  negroes,  previous  to  the  attempt  of  Mr.  Wilson  to  flog  his  slave, 
it  occurred  to  a  magistrate  that  Jerome  might  know  something  of  the 
intended  revolt.  He  accordingly  visited  the  prison  to  see  if  he  could 
learn  anything  from  him,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  Having  given  up  all 
hopes  of  escape,  Jerome  had  resolved  to  die  like  a  brave  man.  When 
questioned  as  to  whether  he  knew  anything  of  a  conspiracy  among  the 
slaves  against  their  masters,  he  replied,  — 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  I  would  tell  you  if  I  did?  " 

"But  if  you  know  anything,"  remarked  the  magistrate,  "and  will 
tell  us,  you  may  possibly  have  your  life  spared." 

"Life,"  answered  the  doomed  man,  "is  worth  nought  to  a  slave. 
What  right  has  a  slave  to  himself,  his  wife,  or  his  children  ?  We  are 
kept  in  heathenish  darkness,  by  laws  especially  enacted  to  make  our 
instruction  a  criminal  offence ;  and  our  bones,  sinews,  blood,  and  nerves 
are  exposed  in  the  market  for  sale. 

"  My  liberty  is  of  as  much  consequence  to  me  as  Mr.  Wilson's  is  to  him. 
I  am  as  sensitive  to  feeling  as  he.  If  I  mistake  not,  the  day  will  come 
when  the  negro  will  learn  that  he  can  get  his  freedom  by  fighting  for  it ; 
nnd  should  that  time  arrive,  the  whites  will  be  sorry  that  they  have 
hated  us  so  shamefully.  I  am  free  to  say  that,  could  I  live  my  life  over 
again,  I  would  use  all  the  energies  which  God  has  given  me  to  get  up  an 
insurrection." 

Every  one  present  seemed  startled  and  amazed  at  the  intelligence 
with  which  this  descendant  of  Africa  spoke. 

"  He's  a  very  dangerous  man,"  remarked  one. 

"Yes,"  said  another,  "he  got  some  book-learning  somewhere,  and 
that  has  spoiled  him." 

An  effort  was  then  made  to  learn  from  Jerome  where  he  had  learned 
to  read,  but  Ihe  black  refused  to  give  any  information  on  the  subject. 
5 


66  .    CLOT  ELL  /:. 

The  sun  was  just  going  down  behind  the  trees  as  Clotelle  entered  the 
prison  to  see  Jerome  for  the  last  time.  He  was  to  die  on  the  next  day. 
Her  face  was  bent  upon  her  hands,  and  the  gushing  tears  were  forcing 
their  way  through  her  fingers.  With  beating  heart  and  trembling 
hands,  evincing  the  deepest  emotion,  she  threw  her  arms  around  her 
lover's  neck  and  embraced  him.  But,  prompted  by  her  heart's  un 
changing  love,  she  had  in  her  own  mind  a  plan  by  which  she  hoped  to 
effect  the  escape  of  him  to  whom  she  had  pledged  her  heart  and  hand. 
While  the  overcharged  clouds  which  had  hung  over  the  city  during  the 
day  broke,  and  the  rain  fell  in  torrents,  amid  the  most  terrific  thunder 
and  lightning,  Clotelle  revealed  to  Jerome  her  plan  for  his  escape. 

"Dress  yourself  in  my  clothes,"  said  she,  "and  you  can  easily  pass 
the  jailer." 

This  Jerome  at  first  declined  doing.  He  did  not  wish  to  place  a  con 
fiding  girl  in  a  position  where,  in  all  probability,  she  would  have  to  suf 
fer;  but  being  assured  by  the  young  girl  that  her  life  would  not  be  in 
danger,  he  resolved  to  make  the  attempt.  Clotelle  being  very  tall,  it 
was  not  probable  that  the  jailer  would  discover  any  difference  in  them. 

At  this  moment,  she  took  from  her  pocket  a  bunch' of  keys  and  un 
fastened  the  padlock,  and  freed  him  from  the  floor. 

"  Come,  girl,  it  is  time  for  you  to  go,"  said  the  jailer,  as  Jerome  was 
holding- the  almost  fainting  girl  by  the  hand. 

Being  already  attired  in  Clotelle's  clothes,  the  disguised  man  embraced 
the  weeping  girl,  put  his  handkerchief  to  his  face,  and  passed  out  of  the 
jail,  without  the  keeper's  knowing  that  his  prisoner  was  escaping  in  a 
disguise  and  under  cover  of  the  night. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

THE    HERO    OF    MANY    ADVENTURES. 

JEROME  had  scarcelv  passed  the  prison-gates,  ere  he  reproached  him 
self  for  having  taken  such  a  step.  There  seemed  to  him  no  hope  of 
escape  out  of  the  State,  and  what  was  a  few  hours  or  days  at  most,  of 
life  to  him,  when,  by  obtaining  it,  anpther  had  been  sacrificed.  He  was 
on  the  eve  of  returning,  when  he  thought  of  the  last  words  uttered  by 
Clotelle.  "  Be  brave  and  determined,  and  you  will  still  be  free."  The 
words  sounded  like  a  charm  in  his  ears  and  he  went  boldly  forward. 

Clotelle  had  provided  a  suit  of  men's  clothes  and  had  placed  them 
Avhere  her  lover  could  get  them,  if  he  should  succeed  in  getting  out. 

Returning  to  Mr.  Wilson's  barn,  the  fugitive  changed  his  apparel,  and 
again  retraced  his  steps  into  the  street.  To  reach  the  Free  States  by 


CLOTELLE.  67 

travelling  by  night  and  lying  by  during  the  day,  from  a  State  so  far 
south  as  Mississippi,  no  one  would  think  for  a  moment  of  attempting  to 
escape.  To  remain  in  the  city  would  be  a  suicidal  step.  The  deep  sound 
of  the  escape  of  steam  from  a  boat,  which  was  at  that  moment  ascend 
ing  the  river,  broke  upon  the  ears  of  the  slave.  "  If  that  boat  is  going 
up  the  river,"  said  he,  "why  not  I  conceal  myself  on  board,  and  try  to 
escape?"  He  went  at  once  to  the  steamboat  landing,  where  the  boat 
was  just  coming  in.  "Bound  for  Louisville,"  said  the  captain,  to  one 
who  was  making  inquiries.  As  the  passengers  were  rushing  on  board, 
Jerome  followed  them,  and  proceeding  to  where  some  of  the  hands  were 
stowing  away  bales  of  goods,  lie  took  hold  and  aided  them. 

"  Jump  down  into  the  hold,  there,. and  help  the  men,"  said  the  mate 
to  the  fugitive,  supposing  that,  like  many  persons,  he  was  working  his 
way  up  the  river.  Once  in  the  hull  among  the  boxes,  the  slave  con 
cealed  himself.  Weary  hours,  and  at  last  days,  passed  without  either 
water  or  food  with  the  hidden  slave.  More  than  once  did  he  resolve  to 
let  his  case  be  known ;  but  the  knowledge  that  he  would  be  sent  back  to 
Natchez  kept  him  from  doing  so.  At  last,  with  lips  parched  and  fevered 
to  a  crisp,  the  poor  man  crawled  out  into  the  freight-room,  and  began 
wandering  about.  The  hatches  were  on,  and  the  room  dark.  There 
happened  to  be  on  board  a  wedding  party,  and  a  box,  containing  some  of 
the  bridal  cake,  with  several  bottles  of  port  wine,  was  near  Jerome.  He 
found  the  box,  opened  it,  and  helped  himself.  In  eight  days,  the  boat 
tied  up  at  the  wharf  at  the  place  of  her  destination.  It  was  late  at  night ; 
the  boat's  crew,  with  the  single  exception  of  the  man  on  watch,  were,  on 
shore.  The  hatches  were  off,  and  the  fugitive  quietly  made  his  way  on 
deck  and  jumped  on  shore.  The  man  saw  the  fugitive,  but  too  late  to 
seize  him. 

Still  in  a  Slave  State,  Jerome  was  at  a  loss  to  know  how  he  should 
proceed.  He  had  with  him  a  few  dollars,  enough  to  pay  his  way  to 
Canada,  if  he  could  find  a  conveyance.  The  fugitive  procured  such  food 
as  he  wanted  from  one  of  the  many  eating-houses,  and  then,  following 
the  direction  of  the  North  Star,  he  passed  out  of  the  city,  and  took  the 
road  leading  to  Covington.  Keeping  near  the  Ohio  Eiver,  Jerome  soon 
found  an  opportunity  to  cross  over  into  the  State  of  Indiana.  But  lib 
erty  was  a  mere  name  in  the  latter  State,  and  the  fugitive  learned,  from 
some  colored  persons  that  he  met,  that  it  was  not  safe  to  travel  by  day 
light.  While  making  his  way  one  night,  with  nothing  to  cheer  him  but 
the  prospect  of  freedom  in  the  future,  he  was  pounced  upon  by  three 
men  who  we're  lying  in  wait  for  another  fugitive,  an  advertisement  of 
whom  they  had  received  through  the  mail.  In  vain  did  Jerome  tell 
them  that  he  was  not  a  slave.  True,  they  had  not  caught  the  man  they 
expected;  but,  if  they  could  make  this  slave  tell  from  what  place  he  had 


68  CLOTELLE. 

escaped,  they  knew  that  a  good  price  would  be  paid  them  for  the  nemo's 
arrest. 

Tortured  by  the  slave-catchers,  to  make  him  reveal  the  name  of  his 
master  and  the  place  from  whence  he  had  escaped,  Jerome  gave 
them  a  fictitious  name  in  Virginia,  and  said  that  his  master  would  give 
a  large  reward,  and  manifested  a  willingness  to  return  to  his  "old  boss." 
By  this  misrepresentation,  the  fugitive  hoped  to  have  another  chance  of 
getting  away.  Allured  with  the  prospect  of  a  large  sum  of  the  needful, 
the  slave-catchers  started  back  with  their  victim.  Stopping  on  the  sec 
ond  night  at  an  inn,  on  the  banks  of  the  Ohio  River,  the  kidnappers,  in  lieu 
of  a  suitable  place  in  which  to  confine  their  prize  during  the  night,  chained 
him  to  the  bed-post  of  their  sleeping-chamber.  The  white  men  were 
late  in  retiring  to  rest,  after  an  evening  spent  in  drinking.  At  dead  of 
night,  when  all  was  still,  the  slave  arose  from  the  floor,  upon  which  he 
had  been  lying,  looked  around  and  saw  that  Moi-pheus  had  possession  of 
his  captors.  For  once,  thought  he,  the  brandy  bottle  has  done  a  noble 
work.  With  palpitating  heart  and  trembling  limbs,  he  viewed  his  posi 
tion.  The  door  was  fast,  but  the  warm  weather  had  compelled  them  to 
leave  the  window  open.  If  he  could  but  get  his  chains  off,  he  might  es 
cape  through  the  window  to  the  piazza.  The  sleepers'  clothes  hung 
upon  chairs -by  the  bedside.  The  slave  thought  of  the  padlock-key, 
examined  the  pockets,  and  found  it.  The  chains  were  soon  off,  and  the 
negro  stealthily  making  his  way  to  the  window.  He  stopped,  and  said  to 
himself,  "  These  men  are  villains ;  they  are  enemies  to  all  who,  like  me, 
are  trying  to  be  free.  Then  why  not  I  teach  them  a  lesson  ?  "  He  then 
dressed  himself  in  the  best  suit,  hung  his  own  worn-out  and  tattered 
garments  on  the  same  chair,  and  silently  passed  through  the  window  to 
the  piazza,  and  let  himself  down  by  one  of  the  pillars,  and  started  once 
more  for  the  North. 

Daylight  came  upon  the  fugitive  before  he  had  selected  a  hiding-place 
for  the  day,  and  he  was  walking  at  a  rapid  rate,  in  hopes  of  soon  reach 
ing  some  woodland  or  forest.  The  sun  had  just  begun  to  show  itself, 
when  the  fugitive  was  astounded  at  seeing  behind  him,  in  the  distance, 
two  men  upon  horseback.  Taking  a  road  to  the  right,  the  slave  saw  be 
fore  him  a  farmhouse,  and  so  near  was  he  to  it  that  he  observed  two 
men  in  front  of  it  looking  at  him.  It  was  too  late  to  turn  back.  The 
kidnappers  were  behind  him  —  strange  men  before  him.  Those  in  the 
rear  he  knew  to  be  enemies,  while  ho  had  no  idea  of  what  principles 
were  the  farmers.  The  latter  also  saw  the  white  men  coming,  and  called 
to  the  fugitive  to  come  that  way.  The  broad-brimmed  hats  that  the 
farmers  wore  told  the  slave  that  they  were  Quakers. 

Jerome  had  seen  some  of  these  people  passing  up  and  down  the  river, 
when  employed  on  a  steamer  between  Natchez  and  New  Orleans,  and 


CLOTELLE.  69 

had  heard  that  they  disliked  slavery.  He,  therefore,  hastened  toward 
the  drab-coated  men,  who,  on  his  approach,  opened  the  barn-door,  and 
told  him  to  "run  in." 

When  Jerome  entered  the  bam,  the  two  farmers  closed  the  door,  re 
maining  outside  themselves,  to  confront  the  slave-catchers,  who  now 
came,  up  and  demanded  admission,  feeling  that  they  had  their  prey  se 
cure. 

"  Thee  can't  enter  my  premises,"  said  one  of  the  Friends,  in  rather  a 
musical  voice. 

The  negro-catchers  urged  their  claim  to  the  slave,  and  intimated  that, 
unless  they  Avere  allowed  to  secure  him,  they  would  force  their  way  in. 
By  this  time,  several  other  Quakers  had  gathered  around  the  barn-door. 
Unfortunately  for  the  kfdnappers,  and  most  fortunately  for  the  fugitive, 
the  Friends  had  just  been  holding  a  quarterly  meeting  in  the  neighbor 
hood,  and  a  number  of  them  had  not  yet  returned  to  their  homes. 

After  some  talk,  the  men  in  drab  promised  to  admit  the  hunters,  pro 
vided  they  procured  an  officer  and  a  search-warrant  from  a  justice  of  the 
peace.  One  of  the  slave-catchers  was  left  to  see  that  the  fugitive  did  not 
get  away,  while  the  others  went  in  pursuit  of  an  officer.  In  the  mean 
time,  the  owner  of  the  barn  sent  for  a  hammer  and  nails,  and  began 
nailing  up  the  barn-door. 

After  an  hour  in  search  of  the  man  of  the  law,  they  returned  with  an 
officer  and  a  wan-ant.  The  Quaker  demanded  to  see  the  paper,  and,  af 
ter  looking  at  it  for  some  time,  called  to  his  son  to  go  into  the  house  for 
his  glasses.  It  was  a  long  time  before  Aunt  Ruth  found  the  leather  case, 
and  when  she  did,  the  glasses  wanted  wiping  before  they  could  be  used. 
After  comfortably  adjusting  them  on  his  nose,  he  read  the  warrant  over 
leisurely. 

"  Come,  Mr.  Dugdale,  we  can't  wait  all  day,"  said  the  officer. 

"Well,  will  thee  read  it  for  me?  "  returned  the  Quaker. 

The  officer  complied,  and  the  man  in  drab  said,  — 

"  Yes,  thee  may  go  in,  now.  I  am  inclined  to  throw  no  obstacles  in  the 
way  of  the  execution  of  the  law  of  the  land." 

On  approaching  the  door,  the  men  found  some  forty  or  fifty  nails  in  it. 
in  the  way  of  their  progress. 

"  Lend  me  your  hammer  and  a  chisel,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Dugdale. 
said  the  officer. 

"  Please  read  that  paper  over  again,  will  thee?  "  asked  the  Quaker 

The  officer  once  more  read  the  warrant. 

"  I  see  nothing  there  which  says  I  must  furnish  thee  with  tools  to 
open  my  door.  If  thee  wants  a  hammer,  thee  must  go  elsewhere  for  it-, 
I  tell  thee  plainly,  thee  can't  have  mine." 

The  implements  for  opening  the  door  are  at  length  obtained,  and,  after 


70  CLOTELLE. 

another  half-hour,  the  slave-catchers  are  in  the  bam.  Three  hour*  is  a 
long  time  for  a  slave  to  be  in  the  hands  of  Quakers.  The  hay  is  turned 
over,  and  the  barn  is  visited  in  every  part;  but  still  the  runaway  is  not 
found.  Uncle  Joseph  has  a  glow  upon  his  countenance ;  Ephraim  shakes 
his  head  knowingly;  little  Elijah  is  a  perfect  know-nothing,  and,  if  you 
look  toward  the  house,  you  will  see  Aunt  Ruth's  smiling  face,  ready  to 
announce  that  breakfast  is  ready. 

"  The  nigger  is  not  in  this  barn,"  said  the  officer. 

"  I  know  he  is  not,"  quietly  answered  the  Quaker. 

"  What  were  you  nailing  up  your  door  for,  then,  as  if  you  were  afraid 
we  would  enter?  "  inquired  one  of  the  kidnappers. 

"  I  can  do  what  I  please  with  my  own  door,  can't  I,"  said  the  Quaker. 

The  secret  was  out ;  the  fugitive  had  gone  in  eft  the  front  door  and  out 
at  the  back ;  and  the  reading  of  the  warrant,  nailing  up  of  the  door,  and 
other  preliminaries  of  the  Quaker,  was  to  give  the  fugitive  time  and 
opportunity  to  escape. 

It  was  now  late  in  the  morning,  and  the  slave-catchers  were  a  long 
way  from  home,  and  the  horses  were  jaded  by  the  rapid  manner  in 
which  they  had  travelled.  The  Friends,  in  high  glee,  returned  to  the 
house  for  breakfast;  the  man  of  the  law,  after  taking  his  fee,  went 
home,  and  the  kidnappers  turned  back,  muttering,  "  Better  luck  next 
time." 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

SELF-SACRIFICE. 

Now  in  her  seventeenth  year,  Clotelle's  personal  appearance  pre 
sented  a  great  contrast  to  the  time  when  she  lived  with  old  Mrs.  Miller. 
Her  tall  and  well-developed  figure ;  her  Igng,  silky  black  hair,  falling  in 
curls  down  her  swan-like  neck ;  her  bright,  black  eyes  lighting  up  her 
olive-tinted  face,  and  a  set  of  teeth  that  a  Tuscarora  might  envy,  she 
was  a  picture  of  tropical-ripened  beauty.  At  times,  there  was  a  heav 
enly  smile  upon  her  countenance,  which  would  have  wanned  the  heart 
of  an  anchorite.  Such  was  the  personal  appearance  of  the  girl  who  was 
now  ia  prison  by  her  own  act  to  save  the  life  of  another.  Would  she 
be  hanged  hi  his  stead,  or  would  she  receive  a  different  kind  of  punish 
ment  ?  These  questions  Clotelle  did  not  ask  herself.  Open,  frank,  free, 
and  generous  to  a  fault,  she  always  thought  of  others,  never  of  her  own 
welfare. 

The  long  stay  of  Clotelle  caused  some  uneasiness  to  Miss  Wilson ;  yet 
she  dared  not  tell  her  father,  for  he  had  forbidden  the  slave-girl's  going 
to  tiw  prison  to  see  ':er  lover.  While  the  clock  on  the  church  near  by 


CLOTELLE.  71 

was  striking  eleven,  Georgiana  called  Sara,  and  sent  him  to  the  prison 
ia  search  of  Clotelle. 

"  The  girl  went  away  from  here  at  eight  o'clock,"  was  the  jailer's 
answer  to  the  servant's  inquiries. 

The  return  of  Sam  without  having  found  the  girl  saddened  the  heart 
of  the  young  mistrees.  "  Sure,  then,"  said  she,  "  the  poor,  heart 
broken  thing  has  made  way  with  herself." 

Still,  she  waited  till  morning  before  breaking  the  news  of  Clotelle's 
absence  to  her  father. 

The  jailer  discovered,  the  next  morning,  to  his  utter  astonishment, 
that  his  prisoner  was  white  instead  of  black,  and  his  first  impression 
was  that  the  change  of  complexion  had  taken  place  during  the  night, 
through  fear  of  death.  But  this  conjecture  was  soon  dissipated;  for  the 
dark,  glowing  eye?,  the  sable  curls  upon  the  lofty  brow,  and  the  mild, 
sweet  voice  that  answered  his  questions,  informed  him  that  the  prisoner 
before  him  was  another  being. 

On  learning,  in  the  morning,  that  Clotelle  was  in  jail  dressed  hi  male 
attire,  Miss  Wilson  immediately  sent  clothes  to  her  to  make  a  change  in 
her  attire.  News  of  the  heroic  and  daring  act  of  the  slave-girl  spread 
through  the  city  with  electric  speed. 

"  I  will  sell  every  nigger  on  the  place,"  said  the  parson,  at  the  break 
fast-table,  —  "I  will  sell  them  all,  and  get  a  new  lot,  and  whip  them 
every  day." 

Poor  Georgiana  wept  for  the  safety  of  Clotelle,  while  she  felt  glad 
that  Jerome  had  escaped.  In  vain  did  they  try  to  extort  from  the  girl 
the  whereabouts  of  the  man  whose  escape  she  had  effected.  She  was 
not  aware  that  he  had  fled  on  a  steamer,  and  when  questioned,  she 
replied,  — 

"I  don't  know;  and  if  I  did  I  would  not  tell  you.  I  care  not  what 
you  do  with  me,  if  Jerome  but  escapes." 

The  smile  with  which  she  uttered  these  words  finely  illustrated  the 
poet's  meaning,  when  he  says, — 

"  A  fearful  gift  upon  thy  heart  is  laid, 
Woman— the  power  to  suffer  and  to  love." 

Her  sweet  simplicity  seemed  to  dare  them  to  lay  their  rough  hands 
amid  her  trembling  curls. 

Three  days  did  the  heroic  young  woman  remain  in  prison,  to  be  gazed 
at  by  an  unfeeling  crowd,  drawn  there  out  of  curiosity.  The  intelli 
gence  came  to  her  at  last  that  the  court  had  decided  to  spare  her  life,  on 
condition  that  she  should  be  whipped,  sold,  and  sent  out  of  the  State 
within  twenty-four  hours. 


72  CLOTELLE. 

This  order  of  the  court  she  would  have  cared  but  little  for,  had  sha 
not  been  sincerely  attached  to  her  young  mistress. 

"  Do  try  and  sell  her  to  pome  one  who  will  use  her  well,"  said  Geor- 
giana  to  her  father,  as  he  was  about  taking  his  hat  to  leave  the  house. 

"  I  shall  not  trouble  myself  to  do  any  such  thing,"  replied  the  hard 
hearted  parson.  "  I  leave  the  finding  of  a  master  for  her  with  the 
slave-dealer." 

Bathed  in  tears,  Miss.  Wilson  paced  her  room  in  the  absence  of  her 
father.  For  many  mouths  Georgiana  had  been  in  a  decline,  and  any 
little  trouble  would  lay  her  on  a  sick  bed  for  days.  She  Avas,  therefore, 
poorly  able  to  bear  the  loss  of  this  companion,  whom  she  so  dearly 
loved. 

Mr.  Wilson  had  informed  his  daughter  that  Clotelle  was  to  be  flogged; 
and  when  Felice  came  in  and  informed  her  mistress  that  the  poor  girl 
had  just  received  fifty  lashes  on  her  bare  person,  the  young  lady  fainted 
and  fell  on  the  floor.  The  servants  placed  their  mistress  on  the  sofa,  and 
went  in  pursuit  of  their  master.  Little  did  the  preacher  think,  on  re 
turning  to  his  daughter,  that  he  should  soon  be  bereft  of  her;  yet  such 
was  to  be  his  lot.  A  blood-vessel  had  been  ruptured,  and  the  three  phy 
sicians  who  were  called  in  told  the  father  that  he  must  prepare  to  lose 
his  child.  That  moral  courage  and  calmness,  which  was  her  great  char 
acteristic,  did  not  forsake  Georgiana  in  her  hour  of  death.  She  had  ever 
been  kind  to  the  slaves  under  her  charge,  and  they  loved  and  respected 
her.  At  her  request,  the  servants  were  all  brought  into  her  room,  and 
took  a  last  farewell  of  their  mistress.  Seldom,  if  ever,  was  there  wit 
nessed  a  more  touching  scene  than  this.  There  lay  the  young  woman, 
pale  and  feeble,  with  death  stamped  upon  her  countenance,  surrounded 
by  the  sons  and  daughters  of  Africa,  some  of  whom  had  been  separated 
from  every  earthly  tie,  and  the  most  of  whose  persons  had  been  torn  and 
gashed  by  the  negro-whip.  Some  were  upon  their  knees  at  the  bedside, 
others  standing  around,  and  all  weeping. 

Death  is  a  leveler;  and  neither  age,  sex,  wealth,  nor  condition,  can 
avert  when  he  is  permitted  to  strike.  The  most  beautiful  flowers  must 
soon  fade  and  droop  and  die.  So,  also,  with  man;  his  days  are  as 
uncertain  as  the  passing  breeze.  This  hour  he  glows  in  the  blush  of 
health  and  vigor,  but  the  next,  he  may  be  counted  with  the  number  no 
more  known  on  earth.  Oh,  what  a  silence  pervaded  the  house  when 
this  young  flower  was  gone!  In  the  midst  of  the  buoyancy  of  "youth, 
this  cherished  one  had  drooped  and  died.  Deep  were  the  sounds  of 
grief  and  mourning  heard  in  that  stately  dwelling  when  the  stricken 
friends,  whose  office  it  had  been  to  nurse  and  soothe  the  weary  sufferer, 
beheld  her  pale  and  motionless  in  the  sleep  of  death. 

Who  can  imagine  the  feeling  with  which  poor  Clotelle  received  the 


CLOTELLE.  73 

intelligence  of  her  kind  friend's  death  ?  The  deep  gashes  of  the  cruel 
whip  had  prostrated  the  lovely  form  of  the  quadroon,  and  she  lay  upon 
her  bed  of  straw  in  the  dark  cell.  The  speculator  had  bought  her,  but 
had  postponed  her  removal  till  she  should  recover.  Her  benefactress 
was  dead,  and  — 

"  Hope  withering  fled,  and  mercy  sighed  farewell." 

"Is  Jerome  safe?"  she  would  ask  herself  continually.  If  her  lover 
could  have  but  known  of  the  sufferings  of  that  sweet  flower,  —  that 
polyanthus  over  which  he  had  so  often  been  in  his  dreams,  —  he  would 
then  have  learned  that  she  was  worthy  of  his  love. 

It  was  more  than  a  fortnight  before  the  slave-trader  could  take  his 
prize  to  more  comfortable  quarters.  Like  Alcibiades,  who  defaced  the 
images  of  the  gods  and  expected  to  be  pardoned  on  the  ground  of  ec 
centricity,  so  men  who  abuse  God's  image  hope  to  escape  the  vengeance 
of  his  wrath  under  the  plea  that  the  law  sanctions  their  atrocious  deeds. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

LOVE   AT   FIRST   SIGHT   AND   WHAT   FOLLOWED. 

IT  was  a  beautiful  Sunday  in  September,  with  a  cloudless  sky,  and 
the  rays  of  the  sun  parching  the  already  thirsty  earth,  that  Clotelle 
stood  at  an  upper  window  in  Slater's  slave-pen  in  New  Orleans,  gasping 
for  a  breath  of  fresh  air.  The  bells  of  thirty  churches  were  calling  the 
people  to  the  different  places  of  worship.  Crowds  were  seen  wending 
their  way  to  the  houses  of  God ;  one  followed  by  a  negro  boy  carrying 
his  master's  Bible;  another  followed  by  her  maid-servant  holding  the 
mistress'  fan;  a  third  supporting  an  umbrella  over  his  master's  head  to 
shield  him  from  the  burning  sun.  Baptists  immersed,  Presbyterians 
sprinkled,  Methodists  shouted,  and  Episcopalians  read  their  prayers, 
while  ministers  of  the  various  sects  preached  that  Christ  died  for  all. 
Tl;o  chiming  of  the  bells  seemed  to  mock  the  sighs  and  deep  groans  of 
the  forty  human  beings  then  incarcerated  in  the  slave-pen.  These  im 
prisoned  children  of  God  were  many  of  them  Methodists,  some  Bap 
tists,  and  others  claiming  to  believe  in  the  faith  of  the  Presbyterians 
and  Episcopalians. 

Oh,  with  what  anxiety  did  these  creatures  await  the  close  of  that 
Sabbath,  and  the  dawn  of  another  day,  that  should  deliver  them  from 
those  dismal  and  close  cells.  Slowly  the  day  passed  away,  and  once 
more  the  evening  breeze  found  its  way  through  the  barred  windows  of 
the  prison  that  contained  these,  injured  sons  and  daughters  of  America. 


74  CLOTELLE. 

The  clock  on  the  calaboose  had  just  struck  nine  on  Monday  morning, 
when  hundreds  of  persons  were  seen  threading  the  gates  and  doors  of 
the  negro-pen.  It  was  the  same  gang  that  had  the  day  previous  been 
stepping  to  the  tune  and  keeping  time  with  the  musical  church  bells. 
Their  Bibles  were  not  with  them,  their  prayer-books  were  left  at  home, 
and  even  their  long  and  solemn  faces  had  been  laid  aside  for  the  week. 
They  had  come  to  the  man-market  to  make  their  purchases.  Methodists 
were  in  search  of  their  brethren.  Baptists  were  looking  for  those  that 
had  been  immersed,  while  Presbyterians  were  willing  to  buy  fellow- 
Christians,  whether  sprinkled  or  not.  The  crowd  was  soon  gazing  at 
and  feasting  their  eyes  upon  the  lovely  features  of  Clotelle. 

"  She  is  handsomer,"  muttered  one  to  himself,  "  than  the  lady  that 
sat  in  the  pew  next  to  me  yesterday." 

"  I  would  that  my  daughter  was  half  so  pretty,"  thmks  a  second. 

Groups  are  seen  talking  in  every  part  of  the  vast  building,  and  the 
topic  on  'Change,  is  the  "beautiful  quadroon."  By  and  by,  a  tall 
young  man  with  a  foreign  face,  the  curling  mustache  protruding  from 
under  a  finely-chiseled  nose,  and  having  the  air  of  a  gentleman,  passes 
by.  His  dark  hazel  eye  is  fastened  on  the  maid,  and  he  stops  for  a  mo 
ment  ;  the  stranger  walks  away,  but  soon  returns  —  he  looks,  he  sees 
the  young  woman  wipe  away  the  silent  tear  that  steals  down  her  ala 
baster  cheek;  he  feels  ashamed  that  he  should  gaze  so  unmanly  on  the 
blushing  face  of  the  woman.  As  he  turns  upon  his  heel  he  takes  out 
his  white  hankerchief  and  wipes  his  eyes.  It  may  be  that  he  has  lost 
a  sister,  a  mother,  or  some  dear  one  to  whom  he  was  betrothed.  Again 
he  comes,  and  the  quadroon  hides  her  face.  She  has  heard  that  foreign 
ers  make  bad  masters,  and  she  shuns  his  piercing  gaze.  Again  he  goes 
away  and  then  returns.  He  takes  a  last  look  and  then  walks  hur 
riedly  off. 

The  day  wears  away,  but  long  before  the  time  of  closing  the  sale  the 
tall  young  man  once  more  enters  the  slave-pen.  He  looks  in  every  di 
rection  for  the  beautiful  slave,  but  she  is  not  there  —  she  has  been  sold ! 
He  goes  to  the  trader  and  inquires,  but  he  is  too  late,  and  he  therefore 
returns  to  his  hotel. 

Having  entered  a  military  school  in  Paris  when  quite  young,  and  soon 
after  been  sent  with  the  French  army  to  India,  Antoine  Devenant  had 
never  dabbled  in  matters  of  love.  He  viewed  all  women  from  the  same 
stand-point  —  respected  them  for  their  virtues,  and  often  spoke  of  the 
goodness  of  heart  of  the  sex,  but  never  dreamed  of  taking  to  himself 
a  wife.  The  unequalled  beauty  of  Clotelle  had  dazzled  his  eyes,  and 
every  look  that  she  gave  was  a  dagger  that  went  to  his  heart.  He  felt 
a  shortness  of  breath,  his  heart  palpitated,  his  head  grew  dizzy,  and  hia 


CLOT,ELLE.  75 

limbs  trembled;  but  he  knew  not  its  cause.    This  was  the  first  stage  of 
"love  at  first  sight." 

He  who  bows  to  the  shrine  of  beauty  when  beckoned  by  this  mys 
terious  agent  seldom  regrets  it.  Devenant  reproached  himself  for  not 
having  made  inquiries  concerning  the  girl  before  he  left  the  market  in 
Ihe  morning.  His  stay  in  the  city  was  to  be  short,  and  the  yellow  fever 
was  raging,  which  caused  him  to  feel  like  making  a  still  earlier  depart 
ure.  The  disease  appeared  in  a  form  unusually  severe  and  repulsive. 
It  seized  its  victims  from  amongst  the  most  healthy  of  the  citizens.  The 
disorder  began  in  the  brain  by  oppressive  pain  accompanied  or  followed 
by  fever.  Fiery  veins  streaked  the  eye,  the  face  was  inflamed  and 
dyed  of  a  dark  dull  red  color;  the  ears  from  time  to  time  rang  painfully. 
Mow  mucous  secretions  surcharged  the  tongue  a«d  took  away  the  power 
of  speech ;  now  the  sick  one  spoke,  but  in  speaking  had  foresight  of 
death.  When  the  violence  of  the  disease  approached  the  heart,  the 
gums  were  blackened.  The  sleep  broken,  troubled  by  convulsions,  or 
by  frightful  visions,  was  worse  4han  the  waking  hours;  and  when  the 
reason  sank  under  a  delirium  which  had  its  seat  in  the  brain,  repose  ut 
terly  forsook  the  patient's  couch.  The  progress  of  the  fever  within  was 
marked  by  yellowish  spots,  which  spread  over  the  surface  of  the  body. 
If  then,  a  happy  crisis  came  not,  all  hope  was  gone.  Soon  the  breath 
infected  the  air  with  a  fetid  odor,  the  lips  Avere  glazed,  despair  painted 
itself  in  the  eyes,  and  sobs,  with  long  intervals  of  silence,  formed  the 
only  language.  From  each  side  of  the  mouth,  spread  foam  tinged  with 
black  and  burnt  blood.  Blue  streaks  mingled  with  the  yellow  all  over 
the  frame.  All  remedies  were  useless.  This  was  the  yellow  fever. 
The  disorder  spread  alarm  and  confusion  throughout  the  city.  On  aa 
average  more  than  four  hundred  died  daily.  In  the  midst  of  disorder 
and  confusion,  death  heaped  victims  on  victims.  Friend  followed  friend 
in  quick  succession.  The  sick  were  avoided  from  the  fear  of  contagion, 
and  for  the  same  reason  the  dead  were  left  unburied.  Nearly  two  thou 
sand  dead  bodies  lay  uncovered  in  the  burial-ground,  with  only  here  and 
there  a  little  lime  thrown  over  them,  to  prevent  the  air  becoming  in 
fected.  The  negro,  whose  home  is  in  a  hot  climate,  was  not  proof 
against  the  disease.  Many  plantations  had  to  suspend  their  work  for 
want  of  slaves  to  take  the  places  of  those  who  had  been  taken  off  Ly 
the  fever. 


76  CLOT&LLE. 

CHAPTER    XXIII. 

MEETING   OF   THE   COUSINS. 

THE  clock  in  the  hall  had  scarcely  finished  striking  three  when  Mr 
Taylor  entered  his  own  dwelling,  a  fine  residence  in  Camp  Street,  New 
Orleans,  followed  by  the  slave-girl  whom  he  had  jnst  purchased  at  the 
negro-pen.  Clotelle  looked  around  wildly  as  she  passed  through  tho 
hall  into  the  presence  of  her  new  mistress.  Mrs.  Taylor  was  much 
pleased  with  her  servant's  appearance,  and  congratulated  her  husband 
on  his  judicious  choice. 

"But,"  said  Mrs.  Taylor,  after  Clotelle  had  gone  into  the  kitchen, 
"how  much  she  looks  like  Miss  Jane  Morton." 

" Indeed,"  replied  the  husband,  "I  thought,  the  moment  I  saw  her 
that  she  looked  like  the  Mortons." 

"  I  am  sure  I  never  saw  two  faces  more  alike  hi  my  life,  than  that 
girl's  and  Jane  Morton's,"  continued  Mr/.  Taylor. 

Dr.  Morton,  the  purchaser  of  Marion,  the  youngest  daughter  of 
Agnes,  and  sister  to  Isabella,  had  resided  in  Camp  Street,  near  the  Tay 
lors,  for  more  than  eight  years,  and  the  families  were  on  very  intimate 
terms,  and  visited  each  other  frequently.  Every  one  spoke  of  Clotelle' s 
close  resemblance  to  the  Mortons,  and  especially  to  the  eldest  daughter. 
Indeed,  two  sisters  could  hardly  have  been  more  alike.  The  large,  dark 
eyes,  black,  silk-like  hair,  tall,  graceful  figure,  and  mould  of  the  face, 
were  the  same. 

The  morning  following  Clotelle's  arrival  in  her  new  home,  Mrs.  Tay 
lor  was  conversing  in  a  low  tone  with  her  husband,  and  both  with  their 
eyes  following  Clotelle  as  she  passed  through  the  room. 

"  She  is  far  above  the  station  of  a  slave,"  remarked  the  lady.  "  I  saw 
her,  last  night,  when  removing  some  books,  open  one  and  stand  over  it 
a  moment  as  if  she  was  reading;  and  she  is  as  white  as  I  am.  I  am 
almost  sorry  you  bought  her." 

At  this  juncture  the  front  door-bell  rang,  and  Clotelle  hurried  through 
the  room  to  answer  it. 

"  Miss  Morton,"  said  the  servant  as  she  returned  to  the  mistress'  room. 

"  Ask  her  to  walk  in,"  responded  the  mistress. 

"  Now,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Taylor  to  her  husband,  "just  look  and  see 
if  you  do  not  notice  a  marked  resemblance  between  the  countenances  of 
Jane  and  Clotelle. 

Miss  Morton  entered  the  room  just  as  Mrs.  Taylor  ceased  speaking. 

"Have  you  heard  that  the  Jamisons  are  down  with  the  fever?"  in 
quired  the  young  lady,  after  asking  about  the  health  of  the  Taylors. 

"  No,  I  had  not;  I  was  in  hopes  it  would  not  get  into  our  street,"  re 
plied  Mrs.  Taylor. 


CLOTELLE.  7i 

All  this  while  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Taylor  were  keenly  scrutinizing  their  vis 
itor  and  Clotelle  and  even  the  two  young  women  seemed  to  be  conscious 
that  they  were  in  some  way  the  objects  of  more  than  usual  attention. 

Miss  Morton  had  scarcely  departed  before  Mrs.  Taylor  began  ques 
tioning  Clotelle  concerning  her  early  childhood,  and  became  more  than 
ever  satisfied  that  the  slave-girl  was  in  some  way  connected  with  the 
Mortons. 

Every  hour  brought  fresh  news  of  the  ravages  of  the  fever,  and  the 
Taylors  commenced  preparing  to  leave  town.  As  Mr.  Taylor  could  not 
go  at  once,  it  was  determined  that  his  wife  should  leave  without  him, 
accompanied  by  her  new  maid-servant.  Just  as  Mrs.  Taylor  and  Clo 
telle  were  stepping  into  the  carriage,  they  were  informed  that  Dr.  Mor 
ton  was  down  with  the  epidemic. 

It  was  a  beautiful  day,  with  a  fine  breeze  for  the  time  of  year,  that 
Mrs.  Taylor  and  her  servant  found  themselves  in  the  cabin  of  the  splen 
did  new  steamer  "  Walk-in-the- Water,"  bound  from  New  Orleans  to 
Mobile.  Every  berth  in  the  bcrat  was  occupied  by  persons  fleeing  from 
the  fearful  contagion  that  was  carrying  off  its  hundreds  daily. 

Late  in  the  day,  as  Clotelle  was  standing  at  one  of  the  windows  of  the 
ladies'  saloon,  she  was  astonished  to  see  near  her,  and  with  eyes  fixed 
intently  upon  her,  the  tall  young  stranger  whom  she  had  observed  in 
the  slave-market  a  few  days  before.  She  turned  hastily  away,  but  the 
heated  cabin  and  the  want  of  fresh  air  soon  drove  her  again  to  the  win 
dow.  The  young  gentleman  again  appeared,  and  coming  to  the  end  of 
the  saloon,  spoke  to  the  slave-girl  in  broken  English.  This  confirmed 
her  in  her  previous  opinion  that  he  was  a  foreigner,  and  she  rejoiced 
that  she  had  not  fallen  into  his  hands. 

"  I  want  to  talk  with  you,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  What  do  you  want  with  me  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  I  am  your  friend,"  he  answered.  "  I  saw  you  in  the  slave-market 
last  week,  and  regretted  that  I  did  not  speak  to  you  then.  I  returned 
in  the  evening,  but  you  was  gone." 

Clotelle  looked  indignantly  at  the  stranger,  and  was  about  leaving  the 
window  again  when  the  quivering  of  his  lips  and  the  trembling  of  his 
voice  struck  her  attention  and  caused  her  to  remain. 

"  I  intended  to  buy  you  and  make  you  free  and  happy,  but  I  was  too 
late,"  continued  he. 

"  Why  do  you  wish  to  make  me  free?  "  inquired  the  girl. 

"  Because  I  once  had  an  only  and  lovely  sister,  who-  died  three  years 
ago  in  France,  and  you  are  so  much  like  her  that  had  I  not  known  of 
her  death  I  should  certainly  have  taken  you  for  her." 

"  However  much  I  may  resemble  your  sister,  you  are  aware  that  I  am 


78  CLOTELLE. 

not  she;  why,  then,  take  so  much  interest  in  one  whom  you  have  never 
seen  before  and  may  never  see  again?" 

"The  love,"  said  he,  "which  I  had  for  my  sister  is  transferred  to 
you." 

Clotelle  had  all  along  suspected  that  the  man  was  a  knave,  and  this 
profession  of  love  at  once  confirmed  her  in  that  belief.  She  therefore 
immediately  turned  away  and  left  him. 

Hours  elapsed.  Twilight  was  just  "  letting  down  her  curtain  and 
pinning  it  with  a  star,"  as  the  slave-girl  seated  herself  on  a  sofa  by  the 
window,  and  began  meditating  upon  her  eventful  history,  meanwhile 
watching  the  white  waves  as  they  seemed  to  sport  with  each  other  in 
the  wakfc  of  the  noble  vessel,  with  the  rising  moon  reflecting  its  silver 
rays  upon  the  splendid  scene,  when  the  foreigner  once  more  appeared 
near  the  window.  Although  agitated  for  fear  her  mistress  would  see  her 
talking  to  a  stranger,  and  be  angry,  Clotelle  still  thought  she  saw  some 
thing  in  the  countenance  of  the  young  man  that  told  her  he  was  sincere, 
and  she  did  not  wish  to  hurt  his  feelings. 

"  Why  persist  in  your  wish  to  talk  with  me?  "  she  said,  as  he  again 
advanced  and  spoke  to  her. 

"  I  wish  to  purchase  you  and  make  you  happy,"  returned  he. 

"  But  I  am  not  for  sale  now,"  she  replied.  "  My  present  mistress  will 
not  sell  me,  and  if  you  wished  to  do  so  ever  so  much  you  could  not." 

"Then,"  said  he,  "if  I  cannot  buy  you,  when  the  steamer  reaches 
Mobile,  fly  with  me,  and  you  shall  be  free." 

"I  cannot  do  it,"  said  Clotelle;  and  she  was  just  leaving  the  stranger 
when  he  took  from  his  pocket  a  piece  of  paper  and  thrust  it  into  her 
hand. 

After  returning  to  her  room,  she  unfolded  the  paper,  and  found,  to  her 
utter  astonishment  that  it  contained  a  one  hundred  dollar  note  on  the 
Bank  of  the  United  States.  The  first  impulse  of  the  girl  was  to  return 
the  paper  and  its  contents  immediately  to  the  giver,  but  examining  the 
paper  more  closely,  she  saw  in  faint  pencil-marks,  "  Remember  this  is 
from  one  who  loves  you."  Another  thought  was  to  give  it  to  her  mis 
tress,  and  she  returned  to  the  saloon  for  that  purpose ;  but  on  finding 
Mrs.  Taylor  engaged  in  conversation  with  some  ladies,  she  did  not  deem 
it  proper  to  interrupt  her. 

Again,  therefore,  Clotelle  seated  herself  by  the  window,  and  again  the 
stranger  presented  himself.  She  immediately  took  the  paper  from  her 
pocket,  and  handed  it  to  him;  but  he  declined  taking  it,  saying,  — 

"  No,  keep  it;  it  may  be  of  some  service  to  you  when  I  am  far  away." 

"  Would  that  I  could  understand  you,"  said  the  slave. 

"  Believe  that  I  am  sincere,  and  then  you  will  understand  me,"  re- 


CLOTELLE.      ,  79 

turned  the  young  man.  "  Would  you  rather  be  a  slave  than  be  free  ?  " 
inquired  he,  with  tears  tha't  glistened  in  the  rays  of  the  moon. 

"  No,"  said  she,  "  I  want  my  freedom,  but  I  must  live  a  virtuous  life." 

"Then,  if  you  would  be  free  and  happy,  go  with  me.  We  shall  be  in 
Mobile  in  two  hours,  and  when  the  passengers  are  going  on  shore,  you 
take  my  arm.  Have  your  face  covered  with  a  veil,  and  you  will  not  be 
observed.  We  will  take  passage  immediately  for  France ;  you  can  pass 
as  my  sister,  and  I  pledge  you  my  honor  that  I  will  many  you  as  soon 
as  we  arrive  in  France." 

This  solemn  promise,  coupled  with  what  had  previously  been  said, 
gave  Clotelle  confidence  in  the  man,  and  she  instantly  determined  to  go 
with  him.  "  But  then,"  thought  she,  "what  if  I  should  be  detected  ?  I 
would  be  forever  ruined,  for  I  would  be  sold,  and  in  all  probability  have 
to  end  my  days  on  a  cotton,  rice,  or  sugar  plantation."  However,  the 
thought  of  freedom  in  the  future  outweighed  this  danger,  and  her  re 
solve  was  taken. 

Dressing  herself  in  some  of  her  best  clothes,  and  placing  her  veiled 
bonnet  where  she  could  get  it  without  the  knowledge  of  her  mistress, 
Clotelle  awaited  with  a  heart  filled  with  the  deepest  emotions  and  anx 
iety  the  moment  when  she  was  to  take  a  step  which  seemed  so  rash, 
and  which  would  either  make  or  ruin  her  forever. 

The  ships  which  leave  Mobile  for  Europe  lie  about  thirty  miles  down 
the  bay,  and  passengers  are  taken  down  from  the  city  in  small  vessels. 
The  "  Walk-in4he- Water  "  had  just  made  her  lines  fast,  and  the  passen_ 
gers  were  hurrying  on  shore,  when  a  tall  gentleman  with  a  lady  at  his 
side  descended  the  stage-plank,  and  stepped  on  the  wharf.  This  was 
Antoine  Devenant  and  Clotelle. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

THE    LAW    AND    ITS    VICTIM. 

THE  death  of  Dr.  Morton,  on  the  third  day  of  his  illness,  came  like  a 
shock  upon  his  wife  and  daughters.  The  corpse  had  scarcely  been 
committed  to  its  mother  earth  before  new  and  unforeseen  difficulties  ap 
peared  to  them.  By  the  laws  of  the  Slave  States,  the  children  follow 
the  condition  of  their  mother.  If  the  mother  is  free,  the  children  are 
free;  if  a  slave,  the  children  are  slaves.  Being  unacquainted  with  the 
Southern  code,  and  no  one  presuming  that  Marion  had  any  negro  blood 
in  her  veins,  Dr.  Morton  had  not  given  the  subject  a  single  thought. 
The  woman  whom  he  loved  and  regarded  as  his  wife  was,  after  all, 
nothiig  more  than  a  slave  by  the  laws  of  the  State.  What  would  have 


80  CLOTELLE. 

been  his  feelings  had  he  known  that  at  his  death  his  wife  and  ehildren 
would  be  considered  as  his  property  ?  Yet  such  was  the  case.  Like 
most  men  of  means  at  that  time,  Dr.  Moi'ton  was  deeply  engaged  in 
speculation,  and  though  generally  considered  wealthy,  was  very  much 
involved  in  his  business  affairs. 

After  the  disease  with  which  Dr.  Morton  had  so  suddenly  died  had  to 
dome  extent  subsided,  Mr.  James  Morton,  a  brother  of  the  deceased, 
went  to  New  Orleans  to  settle  up  the  estate.  On  his  arrival  there,  he 
was  pleased  with  and  felt  proud  of  his  nieces,  and  invited  them  to 
return  with  him  to  Vermont,  little  dreaming  that  his  brother  had  mar 
ried  a  slave,  and  that  his  widow  and  daughters  would  be  claimed  as 
such.  The  girls  themselves  had  never  heard  that  their  mother  had 
been  a  slave,  and  therefore  knew  nothing  of  the  danger  hanging  over 
their  heads. 

An  inventory  of  the  property  of  the  deceased  was  made  out  by  Mr. 
Morton,  and  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  creditors.  These  preliminaries 
being  arranged,  the  ladies,  with  their  relative,  concluded  to  leave  the 
city  and  reside  for  a  few  days  on  the  banks  of  Lake  Ponchartrain, 
where  they  could  enjoy  a  fresh  air  that  the  city  did  not  afford.  As  they 
were  about  taking  the  cai-s,  however,  an  officer  arrested  the  whole  party 
—  the  ladies  as  slaves,  and  the  gentleman  upon  the  charge  of  attempting 
to  conceal  the  pi-operty:of  his  deceased  brother.  Mr.  Morton  was  over 
whelmed  with  horror  at  the  idea  of  his  nieces  being  claimed  as  slaves, 
and  asked  for  time,  that  he  might  save  them  from  such  a  fate.  He  even 
offered  to  mortgage  his  little  farm  in  Vermont  for  the  amount  which 
young  slave-women  of  their  ages  would  fetch.  But  the  creditors 
pleaded  that  they  were  an  "  extra  article,"  and  would  sell  for  more  than 
common  slaves,  and  must  therefore  be  sold  at  auction. 

The  uncle  was  therefore  compelled  to  give  them  up  to  the  officers  of 
the  law,  and  they  were  separated  from  him.  Jane,  the  oldest  of  the 
girls,  as  we  have  before  mentioned,  was  very  handsome,  bearing  a  close 
resemblance  to  her  cousin  Clotelle.  Alreka,  though  not  as  handsome  as 
her  sister,  was  nevertheless  a  beautiful  girl,  and  both  had  all  the  accom 
plishments  that  wealth  and  station  could  procure. 

Though  only  in  her  fifteenth  year,  Alreka  had  become  strongly  at 
tached  to  Volney  Lapie,  a  young  Frenchman,  a  student  in  her  father's 
office.  This  attachment  was  reciprocated,  although  the  poverty  of  the 
young  man  and  the  extreme  youth  of  the  girl  had  caused  their  feelings 
to  be  kept  from  the  young  lady's  parents. 

The  day  of  sale  came,  and  Mr.  Morton  attended,  with  the  hope  that 
either  the  magnanimity  of  the  creditors  or  his  own  little  farm  in  Ver 
mont  might  save  his  nieces  from  the  fate  that  awaited  them.  His  hope, 
however,  was  in  vain.  The  feelings  of  all  present  seemed  to  be  lost  iu 


GLOTELLE.  81 

the  general  wish  to  become  the  possessor  of  the  young  ladies,  who  stood 
trembling,  blushing,  and  weeping  as  the  numerous  throng  gazed  at  them, 
or  as  the  intended  purchaser  examined  the  graceful  proportions  of  their 
fair  and  beautiful  frames.  Neither  the  presence  of  the  uncle  nor  young 
La  pie  could  at  all  lessen  the  gross  language  of  the  officers,  or  stay  the 
rude  hands  of  those  who  wished  to  examine  the  property  thus  offered 
for  sale.  After  a  fierce  contest  between  the  bidders,  the  girls  were  sold, 
one  for  two  thousand  .three  hundred,  and  the  other  for  two  thousand 
three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  Had  these  girls  been  bought  for  ser 
vants  only,  they  would  in  all  probability  have  brought  not  more  than 
nine  hundred  or  a  thousand  dollars  each.  Here  were  two  beautiful 
young  girls,  accustomed  to  the  fondest  indulgence,  surrounded  by  all 
the  refinements  of  life,  and  with  the  timidity  and  gentleness  which  such 
a  life  would  naturally  produce,  bartered  away  like  cattle  in  the  markets 
of  Smithfield  or  New  York.  ' 

The  mother,  who  was  also  to  have  been  sold,  happily  followed  her 
husband  to  the  grave,  and  was  spared  the  pangs  of  a  broken  heart. 

The  purchaser  of  the  young  ladies 'left  the  market  in  triumph,  and 
the  uncle,  with  a  heavy  heart,  started  for  his  New  England  home,  with 
no  earthly  prospect  of  ever  beholding  his  nieces  again. 

The  seizure  of  the  young  ladies  as  slaves  was  the  result  of  the  admin 
istrator's  having  found  among  Dr.  Morton's  papers  the  bill-of-sale  of 
Marion  which  he  had  taken  when  he  purchased  her.  He  had  doubtless 
intended  to  liberate  her  when  he  married  her,  but  had  neglected  from 
time  to  time  to  have  the  proper  papers  made  out.  Sad  was  the  result 
of  this  negligence. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

THE    FLIGHT. 

ON  once  gaining  the  wharf,  Devenant  and  Clotelle  found  no  difficulty 
in  securing  an  immediate  passage  to  France.  The  fine  packet-ship 
Utica  lay  down  the  bay,  and  only  awaited  the  return  of  the  lighter  that 
night  to  complete  her  cargo  and  list  of  passengers,  ere  she  departed. 
The  young  Frenchman  therefore  took  his  prize  on  board,  and  started  for 
the  ship. 

Daylight  was  just  making  its  appearance  the  next  morning  when  the 
Utica  weighed  anchor  and  turned  her  prow  toward  the  sea.  In  the 
course  of  three  hours,  the  vessel,  with  outspread  sails,  was  rapidly  flying 
from  land.  Everything  appeared  to  be  auspicious.  The  skies  were 
beautifully  clear,  and  the  sea  calm,  with  a  sun  that  dazzled  the  whole 
scene.  But  clouds  soon  began  to  chase  each  other  through  the  heavens, 


8*2  CLOTELLE. 

and  the  sea  became  rough.  It  was  then  that  Clotelle  felt  that  there  wa& 
hope  of  escaping.  She  had  hitherto  kept  in  the  cabin,  but  now  she  ex 
pressed  a  wish  to  come  on  deck.  The  hanging  clouds  were  narrowing 
the  horizon  to  a  span,  and  gloomily  mingling  with  the  rising  surges. 
The  old  and  grave-looking  seamen  shook  their  weather-wise  heads  as  if 
foretelling  a  storm. 

As  Clotelle  came  on  deck,  she  strained  her  eyes  in  vain  to  catch  a 
farewell  view  of  her  native  land.  With  a  smile  on  her  countenance,  but 
with  her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  she  said, — 

"  Farewell,  farewell  to  the  land  of  my  birth,  and  welcome,  welcome, 
ye  dark  blue  waves.  I  care  not  where  I  go,  so  it  is 

'  Where  a  tyrant  never  trod, 

Where  a  slave  was  never  known, 
But  where  nature  worships  God, 
If  in  the  wilderness  alone.' " 

Devenant  stood  by  her  side,  seeming  proud  of  his  future  wife,  with 
his  face  in  a  glow  at  his  success,  while  over  his  noble  brow  clustering 
locks  of  glossy  black  hair  were  hanging  in  careless  ringlets.  His  finely- 
cut,  classic  features  wore  the  aspect  of  one  possessed  with  a  large  and 
noble  heart. 

Once  more  the  beautiful  Clotelle  whispered  in  the  ear  of  her  lover,  — 

"Away,  away,  o'er  land  and  sea, 
America  is  now  no  home  for  me." 

The  winds  increased  with  nightfall,  and  impenetrable  gloom  sur 
rounded  the  ship.  The  prospect  was  too  uncheering,  even  to  persons  in 
love.  The  attention  which  Devenant  paid  to  Clotelle,  although  she  had 
been  registered  on  the  ship's  passenger  list  as  his  sister,  caused  more 
than  one  to  look  upon  his  as  an  agreeable  travelling  companion.  His 
tall,  slender  figure  and  fine  countenance  bespoke  for  him  at  first  sight 
one's  confidence.  That  he  was  sincerely  and  deeply  enamored  of 
Clotelle  all  could  see. 

The  weather  became  still  more  squally.  The  wind  rushed  through 
the  white,  foaming  waves,  and  the  ship  groaned  with  its  own  wild  and 
ungovernable  labors,  while  nothing  could  be  seen  but  the  wild  waste  of 
waters.  The  scene  was  indeed  one  of  fearful  sublimity. 

Day  came  and  went  without  any  abatement  of  the  storm.  Despair 
was  now  on  every  countenance.  Occasionally  a  vivid  flash  of  lightning 
would  break  forth  and  illuminate  the  black  and  boiling  surges  that  sur 
rounded  the  vessel,  which  was  now  scudding  before  the  blast  under  bare 
poles. 

A  fter  five  days  of  most  intensely  stormy  weather,  the  sea  settled  down 


CLOTELLE.  83 

into  a  dead  calm,  and  the  passengers  flocked  on  deck.  During  the  last 
three  days  of  the  storm,  Clotelle  had  been  so  unwell  as  to  be  unable  to 
raise  her  head.  Her  pale  face  and  quivering  lips  and  languid  appear 
ance  made  her  look  as  if  every  pulsation  had  ceased.  Her  magnificent 
large  and  soft  eyes,  fringed  with  lashes  as  dark  as  night,  gave  her  an 
angelic  appearance.  The  unreserved  attention  of  Devenant,  even  when 
sca-^ick  himself,  did  much  to  increase  the  little  love  that  the  at  first  dis 
trustful  girl  had  placed  in  him.  The  heart  must  always  have  some 
object  on  which  to  centre  its  affections,  and  Clotelle  having  lost  all  hope 
of  ever  again  seeing  Jerome,  it  was  but  natural  that  she  should  now 
transfer  her  love  to  one  who  was  so  greatly  befriending  her.  At  first 
she  respected  Devenant  for  the  love  he  manifested  for  her,  and  for  his 
apparent  willingness  to  make  any  sacrifice  for  her  welfare.  True,  this 
was  an  adventure  upon  which  she  had  risked  her  all,  and  should  her 
heart  be  foiled  in  this  search  for  hidden  treasures,  her  affections  would 
be  shipwrecked  forever.  She  felt  under  great  obligations  to  the  man 
who  had  thus  effected  her  escape,  and  that  noble  act  alone  would  entitle 
him  to  her  love. 

Each  day  became  more  pleasant  as  the  noble  ship  sped  onward  amid 
the  rippled  spray.  The  whistling  of  the  breeze  through  the  rigging  was 
music  to  the  ear,  and  brought  gladness  to  the  heart  of  every  one  on 
board.  At  last,  the  long  suspense  was  broken  by  the  appearance  of  land, 
at  which  all  hearts  leaped  for  joy.  It  was  a  beautiful  morning  in  Octo 
ber.  The  sun  had  just  risen,  and  sky  and  earth  were  still  bathed  in 
his  soft,  rosy  glow,  when  the  Utica  hauled  into  the  dock  at  Bordeaux. 
The  splendid  streets,  beautiful  bridges,  glittering  equipages,  and  smiling 
countenances  of  the  people,  gave  everything  a  happy  appearance,  after  a 
voyage  of  twenty-nine  days  on  the  deep,  deep  sea. 

After  getting  their  baggage  cleared  from  the  custom-house  and  going 
to  a  hotel,  Devenant  made  immediate  arrangements  for  the  marriage. 
Clotelle,  on  arriving  at  the  church  where  the  ceremony  was  to  take 
place,  was  completely  overwhelmed  at  the  spectacle.  She  had  never 
beheld  a  scene  so  gorgeous  as  this.  The  magnificent  dresses  of  the 
priests  and  choristers,  the  deep  and  solemn  voices,  the  elevated  crucifix, 
the  burning  tapers,  the  splendidly  decorated  altar,  the  sweet-smelling 
incense,  made  the  occasion  truly  an  imposing  one.  At  the  conclusion 
of  the  ceremony,  the  loud  and  solemn  peals  of  the  organ's  swelling  an 
them  were  lost  to  all  in  the  contemplation  of  the  interesting  scene. 

The  happy  couple  set  out  at  once  for  Dunkirk,  the  residence  of  the 
bridegroom's  parents.  But  their  stay  thei-e  was  short,  for  they  had 
scarcely  commenced  visiting  the  numerous  friends  of  the  husband  ere 
orders  came  for  him  to  proceed  to  India  to  join  that  portion  of  the 
French  army  then  stationed  there. 


84  GLOTELLE. 

In  due  course  of  time  they  left  for  India,  passing  through  Paris  and 
Lyons,  taking  ship  at  Marseilles.  In  the  metropolis  of  France,  they 
spent  a  week,  where  the  husband  took  delight  in  introducing  his  wife 
to  his  brother  officers  in  the  French  army,  and  where  the  newly-married 
couple  were  introduced  to  Louis  Philippe,  then  King  of  France.  In 
all  of  these  positions,  Clotelle  sustained  herself  in  a  most  ladylike  man 
ner.  • 

At  Lyons,  they  visited  the  vast  factories  and  other  public  works,  and 
all  was  pleasure  with  them.  The  voyage  from  Marseilles  to  Calcutta 
Avas  very  pleasant,  as  the  weather  was  exceedingly  fine.  On  arriving 
in  India,  Captain  Devenant  and  lady  were  received  with  honors  —  the 
former  for  his  heroic  bravery  in  more  than  one  battle,  and  the  latter  for 
her  fascinating  beauty  and  pleasing  manners,  and  the  fact  that  she  was 
connected  with  one  who  was  a  general  favorite  with  all  who  had  his  ac 
quaintance.  This  was  indeed  a  great  change  for  Clotelle.  Six  months 
had  not  elapsed  since  her  exposure  in  the  slave-market  of  New  Orleans. 
This  life  is  a  stage,  and  we  are  indeed  all  actors. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

THE   HERO    OF   A  NIGHT. 

MOUNTED  on  a  fast  horse,  with  the  Quaker's  son  for  a  guide,  Jerome 
pressed  forward  while  Uncle  Joseph  was  detaining  the  slave-catchers  at 
the  barn-door,  through  which  the  fugitive  had  just  escaped.  When  out 
of  present  danger,  fearing  that  suspicion  might  be  aroused  if  he  con 
tinued  on  the  road  in  open  day,  Jerome  buried  himself  in  a  thick,  dark 
forest  until  nightfall.  With  a  yearning  heart,  he  saw  the  splendor  of  the 
setting  sun  lingering  on  the  hills,  as  if  loath  to  fade  away  and  be  lost  in 
the  more  sombre  hues  of  twilight,  which,  rising  from  the  east,  was 
slowly  stealing  over  the  expanse  of  heaven,  bearing  silence  and  repose, 
which  should  cover  his  flight  from  a  neighborhood  to  him  so  full  of 
dangers. 

Wearily  and  alone,  with  nothing  but  the  hope  of  safety  before  him  to 
cheer  him  on  his  way,  the  poor  fugitive  urged  his  tired  and  trembling 
limbs  forward  for  several  nights.  The  new  suit  of  clothes  with  which 
he  had  provided  himself  when  he  made  his  escape  from  his  captors,  and 
the  twenty  dollars  which  the  young  Quaker  had  slipped  into  his  hand, 
when  bidding  him  "  Fare  thee  well,"  would  enable  him  to  appear  gen 
teelly  as  soon  as  he  dared  to  travel  by  daylight,  and  would  thus  facili 
tate  his  progress  toward  freedom. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  the  fugitive  slave  arrived  at  a  small 


CLOTELLE.  85 

town  on  the  banks  of  Lake  Erie,  where  he  was  to  remain  over  night. 
How  strange  were  his  feelings!  While  his  heart  throbbed  for  that 
freedom  and  safety  which  Canada  alone  could  furnish  to  the  whip-scurred 
slave,  on  the  American  continent,  his  thoughts  were  with  Clotelle.  Was 
she  still  in  prison,  and  if  so,  what  would  be  her  punishment  for  aiding 
him  to  escape  from  prison?  Would  he  ever  behold  her  again?  These 
were  the  thoughts  that  followed  him  to  his  pillow, -haunted  him  in  his 
dreams,  and  awakened  him  from  his  slumbers. 

The  alarm  of  fire  aroused  the  inmates  of  the  hotel  in  which  Jerome 
had  sought  shelter  for  the  night  from  the  deep  sleep  into  which  they 
had  fallen.  The  whole  village  was  buried  in  slumber,  and  the  building 
was  half  consumed  before  the  frightened  inhabitants  had  reached  the 
scene  of  the  conflagration.  The  wind  was  high,  and  the  burning  em 
bers  were  wafted  like  so  many  rockets  through  the  sky.  The  whole 
town  was  lighted  up,  and  the  cries  of  women  and  children  in  the  streets 
made  the  scene  a  terrific  one.  Jerome  heard  the  alarm,  and  hastily 
dressing  himself,  he  went  forth  and  hastened  toward  the  burning  build 
ing. 

"  There,  —  there  in  that  room  in  the  second  story,  is  my  child!  "  ex 
claimed  a  woman,  wringing  her  hands,  and  imploring  some  one  to  go 
to  the  rescue  of  her  little  one. 

The  broad  sheets  of  fire  were  flying  in  the  direction  of  the  chamber  in 
which  the  child  was  sleeping,  and  all  hope  of  its  being  saved  seemed 
gone.  Occasionally  the  wind  would  lift  the  pall  of  smoke,  and  show 
that  the  work  of  destruction  was  not  yet  complete.  At  last  a  long  lad 
der  was  brought,  and  one  end  placed  under  the  window  of  the  room. 
A  moment  more  and  a  bystander  mounted  the  ladder  and  ascended  in 
haste  to  the  window.  The  smoke  met  him  as  he  raised  the  sash,  and  he 
cried  out,  "All  is  lost!  "  and  returned  to  the  ground  without  enterirg 
the  room. 

Another  sweep  of  the  wind  showed  that  the  desti'oying  element  had 
not  yet  made  its  final  visit  to  that  part  of  the  doomed  building.  The 
mother,  seeing  that  all  hope  of  again  meeting  her  child  in  this  world 
was  gone,  wrung  her  hands  and  seemed  inconsolable  with  grief. 

At  this  juncture,  a  man  was  seen  to  mount  the  ladder,  and  ascend  wfth 
great  rapidity.  All  eyes  were  instantly  turned  to  the  figure  of  this  un 
known  individual  as  it  disappeared^!  the  cloud  of  smoke  escaping 
from  the  window.  Those  who  a  moment  before  had  been  removing  fur 
niture,  as  well  as  the  idlers  who  had  congregated  at  the  ringing  of  the 
bells,  assembled  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder,  and  awaited  with  breathless 
silence  the  reappearance  of  the  stranger,  who,  regardless  of  his  own 
safety,  had  thus  risked  his  life  to  save  another's.  Three  cheers  broke 
the  stillness  that  had  fallen  on  the  company,  as  the  brave  man  was  seen 


86  CLOTELLE. 

coming  through  the  window  and  slowly  descending  to  the  ground, 
holding  under  one  arm  the  inanimate  form  of  the  child.  Another  cheer, 
and  then  another,  made  the  welkin  ring,  as  the  stranger,  with  hair 
burned  and  eyebrows  closely  singed,  faulted  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder. 
But  the  child  was  saved. 

The  stranger  was  Jerome.  As  soon  as  he  revived,  he  s'hrunk  from 
every  eye,  as  if  he  feared  they  would  take  from  him  the  freedom  which 
he  had  gone  through  so  much  to  obtain. 

The  next  day,  the  fugitive  took  a  vessel,  and  the  following  morning 
found  himself  standing  on  the  free  soil  of 'Canada.  As  his  foot  pressed 
the  shore,  he  threw  himself  upon  his  face,  kissed  the  earth,  and  ex 
claimed,  "  0  God !  I  thank  thee  that  I  am  a  free  man." 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

TRUE    FREEDOM. 

THE  history  of  the  African  race  is  God's  illuminated  clock,  set  in  the 
dark  steeple  of  time.  The  negro  has  been  made  the  hewer  of  wood 
and  the  drawer  of  water  for  nearly  all  other  nations.  The  people  of  ths 
United  States,  however,  will  have  an  account  to  settle  with  Goa,  owing 
to  their  treatment  of  the  negro,  which  will  far  surpass  the  rest  of  man 
kind. 

Jerome,  on  reaching  Canada,  felt  for  the  first  time  that  personal  free 
dom  which  God  intended  that  all  who  bore  his  image  should  enjoy. 
That  same  forgetfulness  of  self  which  had  always  characterized  him 
now  caused  him  to  think  of  others.  The  thoughts  of  dear  ones  in 
slavery  were  continually  in  his  mind,  and  above  all  others,  Clotelle  oc 
cupied  his  thoughts.  Now  that  he  was  free,  he  could  better  appreciate 
her  condition  as  a  slave.  Although  Jerome  met,  on  his  arrival  in  Can 
ada,  numbers  who  had  escaped  from  the  Southern  States,  he  neverthe 
less  shrank  from  all  society,  particularly  that  of  females.  The  soft, 
silver-gray  tints  on  the  leaves  of  the  trees,  with  their  snow-spotted 
trunks,  and  a  biting  air,  warned  the  new-born  freeman  that  he  was  in 
another  climate.  Jerome  sought  work,  and  soon  found  it;  and  ar 
ranged  with  his  employer  that  -thf  latter  should  go  to  Natchez  in  search 
of  Clotelle.  The  good  Scotchman,  for  whom  the  fugitive  was  laboring, 
freely  offered  to  go  clown  and  purchase  the  girl,  if  she  could  be  bought, 
and  let  Jerome  pay  him  in  work.  With  such  a  prospect  of  future  hap 
piness  in  view,  this  injured  descendant  of  outraged  and  bleeding  Africa 
went  daily  to  his  toil  with  an  energy  hitherto  unknown  to  him.  But 
oh,  how  vain  are  the  hopes  of  man ! 


x  C  L  O  TE  LLE.  87 

CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

FAREWELL    TO    AMERICA. 

THREE  months  had  elapsed,  from  the  time  the  fugitive  commenced 
work  for  Mr.  Streeter,  when  that  gentleman  returned  from  his  Southern 
research,  and  informed  Jerome  that  Parson  Wilson  had  sold  Clotelle, 
and  that  she  had  been  sent  to  the  New  Orleans  slave-market. 

This  intelligence  fell  with  crushing  weight  upon  the  heart  of  Jerome, 
and  he  now  felt  that  the  last  chain  which  bound  him  to  his  native  land 
was  severed.  He  therefore  determined  to  leave  America  forever.  His 
nearest  and  dearest  friends  had  often  been  flogged  in  his  very  presence, 
and  he  had  seen  his  mother  sold  to  the  negro-trader.  An  only  sister  had 
been  torn  from  him  by  the  soul-driver;  he  had  himself  been  sold  and 
resold,  and  been  compelled  to  submit  to  the  most  degrading  and  humil 
iating  insults ;  and  now  that  the  woman  upon  whom  his  heart  doted, 
and  without  whom  life  was  a  burden,  had  been  taken  away  forever,  he 
felt  it  a  duty  to  hate  all  mankind. 

If  there  is  one  thing  more  than  another  calculated  to  make  one  hate 
and  detest  American  slavery,  it  is  to  witness  the  meetings  between  fugi 
tives  and  their  friends  in  Canada.  Jerome  had  beheld  some  of  these 
scenes.  The  wife  who,  after  years  of  separation,  had  escaped  from  her 
prison-house  and  followed  her  husband  had  told  her  story  to  him.  He 
had  seen  the  newly-arrived  wife  rush  into  the  arms  of  the  husband, 
whose  dark  face  shcbhad  not  looked  upon  for  long,  weary  years.  Some 
told  of  how  a  sister  had  been  ill-used  by  the  overseer;  others  of  a  hus 
band's  being  whipped  to  death  for  having  attempted  to  protect  his  wife. 
He  had  sat  in  the  little  log-hut,  by  the  fireside,  and  heard  tales  that 
caused  his  heart  to  bleed ;  and  his  bosom  swelled  with  just  indignation 
when  he  thought  that  there  was  no  remedy  for  such  atrocious  acts.  It 
was  with  such  feelings  that  he  informed  his  employer  that  he  should 
leave  him  at  the  expiration  of  a  month. 

In  vain  did  Mr.  Streeter  try  to  persuade  Jerome  to  remain  with  him; 
and  late  in  the  month  of  February,  the  latter  found  himself  on  board  a 
small  vessel  loaded  with  pine-lumber,  descending  the  St.  Lawrence, 
bound  for  Liverpool.  The  bark,  though  an  old  one,  was,  nevertheless, 
considered  seaworthy,  and  the  fugitive  was  working  his  way  out.  As 
the  vessel  left  the  river  and  gained  the  open  sea,  the  black  man  ap 
peared  to  rejoice  at  the  prospect  of  leaving  a  country  in  which  his  right 
to  manhood  had  been  denied  him,  and  his  happiness  destroyed. 

The  wind  was  proudly  swelling  the  white  sails,  and  the  little  craft 
plunging  into  the  foaming  waves,  with  the  land  fast  receding  in  the  dis 
tance,  when  Jerome  mounted  a  pile  of  lumber  to  take  a  last  farewell  of 


88  CLOTELLE. 

his  native  land.  With  tears  glistening  in  his  eyes,  and  with  quivering 
lips,  he  turned  his  gaze  toward  the  shores  that  were  fast  fading  in  the 
dim  distance,  and  said, — 

"  Though  forced  from  my  native  land  by  the  tyrants  of  the  South,  I 
hope  I  shall  some  day  be  able  to  return.  With  all  her  faults,  I  love  my 
country  still." 

CHAPTER    XXIX. 

A   STRANGER   IN  A   STRANGE   LAND. 

THE  rain  was  falling  on  the  dirty  pavements  of  Liverpool  as  Jerome 
left  the  vessel  after  her  arrival.  Passing  the  custom-house,  he  took  a 
cab,  and  proceeded  to  Brown's  Hotel,  Clayton  Square. 

Finding  no  employment  in  Liverpool,  Jerome  determined  to  go  into  the 
interior  and  seek  for  work.  He,  therefore,  called  for  his  bill,  and  made 
ready  for  his  departure.  Although  but  four  days  at  the  Albion,  he  found 
the  hotel  charges  larger  than  he  expected;  but  a  stranger  generally 
counts  on  being  "  fleeced  "  in  travelling  through  the  Old  World,  and  es 
pecially  in  Great  Britain.  After  paying  his  bill,  he  was  about  leaving 
the  room,  when  one  of  the  servants  presented  himself  with  a  low  bow, 
and  said,  — 

"  Something  for  the  waiter,  sir?  " 

"  I  thought  I  had  paid  my  bill,"  replied  the  man,  somewhat  surprised 
at  this  polite  dun. 

"  I  am  the  waiter,  sir,  and  gets  only  what  strangers  see  fit  to  give 
me." 

Taking  from  his  pocket  his  nearly  empty  purse,  Jerome  handed  the 
man  a  half-crown ;  but  he  had  hardly  restored  it  to  his  pocket,  before 
his  eye  fell  on  another  man  in  the  waiting  costume. 

"  What  do  you  want?  "  he  asked. 

"  Whatever  your  honor  sees  fit  to  give  me,  sir.  I  am  the  tother 
waiter." 

The  purse  was  again  taken  from  the  pocket,  and  another  half-crown 
handed  out.  Stepping  out  into  the  hall,  he  saw  standing  there  a  good- 
looking  woman,  in  a  white  apron,  who  made  a  very  pretty  courtesy. 

"  What's  your  business?  "  he  inquired. 

"  I  am  the  chambermaid,  sir,  and  looks  after  the  gentlemen's  beds." 

Out  came  the  purse  again,  and  was  relieved  of  another  half-crown; 
whereupon  another  girl,  with  a  fascinating  smile,  took  the  place  of  the 
one  who  had  just  received  her  fee. 

"  What  do  you  want?  "  demanded  the  now  half-angry  Jerome. 

"  Please,  sir,  I  am  the  tother  chambermaid." 


CLOTELLE.  89 

Finding  it  easier  to  give  shillings  than  half-crowns,  Jerome  handed  the 
woman  a  shilling,  and  again  restored  his  purse  to  his  pocket,  glad  that 
another  woman  was  not  to  be  seen. 

Scarcely  had  he  commenced  congratulating  himself,  however,  before 
three  men  made  their  appearance,  one  after  another. 

"  What  have  you  done  for  me  ?  "  he  asked  of  the  first. 

"I  am  the  boots,  sir." 

The  purse  came  out  once  more,  and  a  shilling  was  deposited  in  the 
servant's  hand. 

"  What  do  I  owe  you?  "  he  inquired  of  the  second. 

"  I  took  your  honor's  letter  to  the  post,  yesterday,  sir." 

Another  shilling  left  the  purse. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  Lord,  what  am  I  indebted  to  you  for?  "  demand 
ed  Jerome,  now  entirely  out  of  patience,  turning  to  the  last  of  the  trio. 

"  I  told  yer  vership  vot  time  it  vas,  this  morning." 

"  Well!  "  exclaimed  the  indignant  man,  "ask  here  what  o'clock  it  is, 
and  you  have  got  to  pay  for  it." 

He  paid  this  last  demand  with  a  sixpence,  regretting  that  he  had  not 
commenced  with  sixpences  instead  of  half-crowns. 

Having  cleared  off  all  demands  in  the  house,  h*started  for  the  railway 
station ;  but  had  scarcely  reached  the  street,  before  he  was  accosted 
by  an  old  man  with  a  broom  in  his  hand,  who,  with  an  exceedingly  low 
bow,  said, — 

"  I  is  here,  yer  lordship." 

"I  did  not  send  for  you;  what  is  your  business?"  demanded  Je 
rome. 

"  I  is  the  man  what  opened  your  lordship's  cab-door,  when  your  lord 
ship  came  to  the  house  on  Monday  last,  and  I  know  your  honor  won't 
allow  a  poor  man  to  starve." 

Putting  a  sixpence  in  the  old  man's  hand,  Jerome  once  more  started 
for  the  depot.  Having  obtained  letters  of  introduction  to  persons  in 
Manchester,  he  found  no  difficulty  in  getting  a  situation  in  a  large  manu 
facturing  house  there.  Although  the  salary  was  small,  yet  the  situation 
was  a  much  better  one  than  he  had  hoped  to  obtain.  His  compensation 
as  out-door  clerk  enabled  him  to  employ  a  man  to  teach  him  at  night, 
and,  by  continued  study  and  attention  to  business,  he  was  soon  pro 
moted. 

After  three  years  in  his  new  home,  Jerome  was  placed  in  a  still  higher 
position,  where  his  aalary  amounted  to  fifteen  hundred  dollars  a  year. 
The  drinking,  smoking,  and  other  expensive  habits,  which  the  clerks 
usually  indulged  in,  he  carefully  avoided. 

Being  fond  of  poetry,  he  turned  his  attention  to  literature.  Johnson's 
"lives  of  the  Poets,"  the  writings  of  Dryden,  AddUon,  Pope,  Claren- 


90  CLOTELLE. 

don,  and  other  authors  of  celebrity,  he  read  with  attention.  The  knowl 
edge  which  he  thus  picked  up  during  his  leisure  hours  gave  him  a 
great  advantage  over  the  other  clerks,  and  caused  his  employers  to  re 
spect  him  far  more  than  any  other  in  their  establishment.  So  eager  was 
he  to  improve  the  time  that  he  determined  to  see  how  much  he  could 
read  during  the  unemployed  time  of  night  and  morning,  and  his  suc 
cess  was  beyond  his  expectations. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

NEW  FRIENDS. 

BROKEN  down  in  health,  after  ten  years  of  close  confinement  in  his 
situation,  Jerome  resolved  to  give  it  up,  and  thereby  release  himself 
from  an  employment  which  seemed  calculated  to  send  him  to  a  prema 
ture  grave. 

It  was  on  a  beautiful  morning  in  summer  that  he  started  for  Scotland, 
having  made  up  his  mind  to  travel  for  his  health.  After  visiting  Edin 
burgh  and  Glasgow,  htf  concluded  to  spend  a  few  days  in  the  old  town 
of  Perth,  with  a  friend  whose  acquaintance  he  had  made  in  Manches 
ter.  During  the  second  day  of  his  stay  in  Perth,  while  crossing  the 
main  street,  Jerome  saw  a  pony-chaise  coming  toward  him  with  great 
speed.  A  lady,  who  appeared  to  be  the  only  occupant  of  the  vehicle, 
was  using  her  utmost  strength  to  stop  the  frightened  horses.  The  foot 
man,  in  his  fright,  had  leaped  from  behind  the  carriage,  and  was  follow 
ing  with  the  crowd.  With  that  self-forgetfulness  which  was  one  of  his 
chief  characteristics,  Jerome  threw  himself  before  the  horses  to  stop 
them ;  and,  seizing  the  high-spirited  animals  by  the  bit,  as  they  dashed 
by  him,  he  was  dragged  several  rods  before  their  speed  was  checked, 
which  was  not  accomplished  until  one  of  the  horses  had  fallen  to  the 
ground,  with  the  heroic  man  struggling  beneath  him. 

All  present  were  satisfied  that  this  daring  act  alone  had  saved  the 
lady's  life,  for  the  chaise  must  inevitably  have  been  dashed  in  pieces, 
had  the  horses  not  been  thus  suddenly  checked  in  their  mad  career. 

On  the  morning  following  this  perilous  adventure,  Col.  G called  at 

Jerome's  temporary  residence,  and,  after  expressing  his  admiration  for 
his  noble  daring,  and  thanking  him  for  having  saved  his  daughter's  life, 
invited  him  to  visit  him  at  his  country  residence.  This  invitation  was 
promptly  accepted  in  the  spirit  in  which  it  was  given  ;  and  three 
days  after,  Jerome  found  himself  at  the  princely  residence  of  the 
father  of  the  lady  for  whose  safety  he  had  risked  his  own  life.  The 
house  was  surrounded  by  fine  trees,  and  a  sweet  little  stream  ran  mur« 


CLOT  EL  LE.  91 

muring  at  the  foot,  while  beds  of  flowers  on  every  hand  shed  their  odors 
on  the  summer  air.  It  was,  indeed,  a  pleasant  place  to  spend  the  warm 
weather,  and  the  colonel  and  his  family  gave  Jerome  a  most  cordial 
welcome.  Miss  G.  showed  especial  attention  to  the  stranger.  He  had 
not  intended  remaining  longer  than  the  following  day:  but  the  family 
insisted  on  his  taking  part  in  a  fox-hunt  that  was  to  come  off  on  the 
morning  of  the  third  day.  Wishing  to  witness  a  scene  as  interesting  as 
the  chase  usually  proves  to  be,  he  decided  to  remain. 

Fifteen  persons,  five  of  whom  were  ladies,  were  on  the  ground  at  the 
appointed  hour.  Miss  G.  was,  of  course,  one  of  the  party.  In  vain 
Jerome  endeavored  to  excuse  himself  from  joining  in  the  chase.  His 
plea  of  ill-health  was  only  met  by  smiles  from  the  young  ladies,  and  the 
reply  that  a  ride  would  effect  a  cure. 

Dressed  in  a  scarlet  coat  and  high  boots,  with  the  low,  round  cap  worn 
in  the  chase,  Jerome  mounted  a  high-spirited  horse,  whip  in  hand,  and 
made  himself  one  of  the  party.  In  America,  riding  is  a  necessity;  in 
England,  it  is  a  pleasure.  Young  men  and  women  attend  riding-school 
in  our  fatherland,  and  consider  that  they  are  studying  a  science.  Je 
rome  was  no  rider.  He  had  not  been  on  horseback  for  more  than  ten 
years,  and  as  soon  as  he  mounted,  every  one  saw  that  he  was  a  novice, 
and  a  smile  was  on  the  countenance  of  each  member  of  the  company. 

The  blowing  of  the  horn,  and  assembling  of  the  hounds,  and  finally 
the  release  of  the  fox  from  his  close  prison,  were  the  signals  for  the 
chase  to  commence.  The  first  half-mile  the  little  animal  took  his 
course  over  a  beautiful  field  where  there  was  neither  hedge  nor  ditch. 
Thus  far  the  chase  was  enjoyed  by  all,  even  by  the  American  rider,  who 
was  better  fitted  to  witness  the  scene  than  to  take  part  in  it. 

We  left  Jerome  in  our  last  reluctantly  engaged  in  the  chase;  and 
though  the  first  mile  or  so  of  the  pursuit,  which  was  over  smooth 
meadow-land,  had  had  an  exhilarating  effect  upon  his  mind,  and  tended 
somewhat  to  relieve  him  of  the  embarrassment  consequent  upon  his 
position,  he  nevertheless  still  felt  that  he  was  far  from  being  in  his 
proper  element.  Besides,  the  fox  had  now  made  for  a  dense  forest 
which  lay  before,  and  he  saw  difficulties  in  that  direction  which  to 
him  appeared  insurmountable. 

Away  went  the  huntsmen,  over  stone  walls,  high  fences,  and  deep 
ditches.  Jerome  saw  the  ladies  even  leading  the  gentlemen,  but  this 
could  not  inspire  him.  .They  cleared  the  fences,  four  and  five  feet  high 
with  perfect  ease,  showing  they  were  quite  at  home  in  the  saddle.  But 
alas  for  the  poor  American!  As  his  fine  steed  came  up  to  the  first 
fence,  and  was  about  to  make  the  leap,  Jerome  pulled  at  the  bridle,  and 
cried  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "  Whoa!  whoa!  whoa!  "  the  horse  at  the 


92  CLOTELLE. 

same  time  capering  about,  and  appearing  determined  to  keep  up  with 
the  other  animals. 

^  Away  dashed  the  huntsmen,  following  the  hounds,  and  all  were  soon 
lost  to  the  view  of  their  colored  companion.  Jerome  rode  up  and  down 
the  field  looking  for  a  gate  or  bars,  that  he  might  get  through  without 
risking  his  neck.  Finding,  however,  that  all  hope  of  again  catching  up 
with  the  party  was  out  of  the  question,  he  determined  to  return  to  the 
house,  under  a  plea  of  sudden  illness,  and  back  he  accordingly  went. 

"  I  hope  no  accident  has  happened  to  your  honor,"  said  the  groom,  as 
he  met  our  hero  at  the  gate. 

"A  slight  dizziness,"  was  the  answer. 

One  of  the  servants,  without  being  ordered,  went  at  once  for  the  fam 
ily  physician.  Ashamed  to  own  that  his  return  was  owing  to  his  ina 
bility  to  ride,  Jerome  resolved  to  feign  sickness.  The  doctor  came,  felt 
his  pulse,  examined  his  tongue,  and  pronounced  him  a  sick  man.  He 
immediately  ordered  a  tepid  bath,  and  sent  for  a  couple  of  leeches. 

Seeing  things  taking  such  a  serious  turn,  the  American  began  to  re 
gret  the  part  he  was  playing;  for  there  was  no  fun  in  being  rubbed  and 
leeched  when  one  was  in  perfect  health.  He  had  gone  too  far  to  recede, 
however,  and  so  submitted  quietly  to  the  directions  of  tto  doctor;  and, 
after  following  the  injunctions  given  by  that  learned  Esculivpius,  was  put 
to  bed. 

Shortly  after,  the  sound  of  the  horns  and  the  yelp  of  tho  hounds  an 
nounced  that  the  poor  fox  had  taken  the  back  track,  and  was  repassing 
near  the. house.  Even  the  pleasure  of  witnessing  the  beautiful  sight 
from  the  window  was  denied  to  our  hero ;  for  the  physician  had  ordered 
that  he  must  be  kept  in  perfect  quiet. 

The  chase  was  at  last  over,  and  the  huntsmen  all  in,  sympathizing 
with  their  lost  companion.  After  nine  days  of  sweating,  blistering,  and 
leeching,  Jerome  left  his  bed  convalescent,  but  much  reduced  in  flesh 
and  strength.  This  was  his  first  and  last  attempt  to  follow  the  fox  and 
hounds. 

During  his  fortnight's  stay  at  Colonel  G.'s,  Jerome  spent  most  of  his 
time  iii  the  magnificent  library.  Claude  did  not  watch  with  more  in 
terest  every  color  of  the  skies,  the  trees,  the  grass,  and  the  water,  to 
learn  from  nature,  than  did  this  son  of  a  despised  race  search  books  to 
obtain  that  knowledge  which  his  early  life  as  a  slave  had  denied  him. 


CLOTELLE.  93 

CHAPTER    XXXI. 

THE   MYSTERIOUS   MEETING. 

AFTER  more  than  a  fortnight  spent  in  Ihe  highlands  of  Scotland, 
Jerome  passed  hastily  through  London  on  his  way  to  the  continent. 

It  was  toward  sunset,  on  a  warm  day  in  October,  shortly  after  his 
arrival  in  France,  that,  after  strolling  some  distance  from  the  Hotel  de 
Leon,  in  the  old  and  picturesque  town  of  Dunkirk,  he  entered  a  burial- 
ground —  such  plaCes  being  always  favorite  walks  with  him  —  and 
wandered  around  among  the  silent  dead.  All  nature  around  was  hushed 
in  silence,  and  seemed  to  partake  of  the  general  melancholy  that  hung 
over  the  quiet  resting-place  of  the  departed.  Even  the  birds  seemed 
imbued  with  the  spirit  of  the  place,  for  they  were  silent,  either  flying 
noiselessly  over  the  graves,  or  jumping  about  in  the  tall  grass.  After 
tracing  the  various  inscriptions  that  told  the  characters  and  conditions  of 
the  deceased,  and  viewing  the  mounds  beneath  which  the  dust  of  mor 
tality  slumbered,  he  arrived  at  a  secluded  spot  near  where  an  aged 
weeping  willow  bowed  its  thick  foliage  to  the  ground,  as  though  anxious 
to  hide  from  the  scrutinizing  gaze  of  curiosity  the  grave  beneath  it. 
Jerome  seated  himself  on  a  marble  tombstone,  and  commenced  read 
ing  from  a  book  which  he  had  carried  under  his  arm.  It  was  now  twi 
light,  and  he  had  read  but  a  few  minutes  when  he  observed  a  lady,  at 
tired  in  deep  black,  and  leading  a  boy,  apparently  some  five  or  six  years 
old,  coming  up  one  of  the  beautiful,  winding  paths.  As  the  lady's  veil 
was  drawn  closely  over  her  face,  he  felt  somewhat  at  liberty  to  eye  her 
more  closely.  While  thus  engaged,  the  lady  gave  a  slight  scream,  and 
seemed  suddenly  to  have  fallen  into  a  fainting  condition.  Jerome 
sprang  from  his  seat,  and  caught  her  in  time  to  save  her  from  falling  to 
the  ground. 

At  this  moment  an  elderly  gentleman,  also  dressed  in  black,  was  seen 
approaching  with  a  hurried  step,  which  seemed  to  indicate  that  he  was 
in  some  way  connected  with  the  lady.  The  old  man  came  up,  and  in 
rather  a  confused  manner  inquired  what  had  happened,  and  Jerome  ex 
plained  matters  as  well  as  he  was  able  to  do  so.  After  taking  up  the 
vinaigrette,  which  had  fallen  from  her  hand,  and  holding  the  bottle  a 
short  time  to  her  face,  the  lady  began  to  revive.  During  all  this  time, 
the  veil  had  still  partly  covered  the  face  of  the  fair  one,  so  that  Jerome 
had  scarcely  seen  it.  When  she  had  so  far  recovered  as  to  be  able  to 
look  around  her,  she  raised  herself  slightly,  and  again  screamed  and 
swooned.  .The  old  man  now  feeling  satisfied  that  Jerome's  dark  com 
plexion  was  the  immediate  cause  of  the  catastrophe,  said  in  a  some 
what  petulant  tone,  — 

"  I  will  be  glad,  sir,  if  you  will  leave  us  alone." 


94  CLOTELLE. 

The  little  boy  at  this  juncture  set  up  a  loud  cry,  and  amid  the 
general  confusion,  Jerome  left  the  ground  and  returned  to  his  hotel. 

While  seated  at  the  window  of  his  room  looking  out  upon  the 
crowded  street,  with  every  now  and  then  the  strange  scene  in  the  grave 
yard  vividly  before  him,  Jerome  suddenly  thought  of  the  book  he  had 
been  reading,  and,  remembering  that  he  had  left  it  on  the  tombstone, 
where  he  dropped  it  when  called  to  the  lady's  assistance,  he  determined 
to  return  for  it  at  once. 

^  After  a  walk  of  some  twenty  minutes,  he  found  himself  again  in  the 
burial-ground  and  on  the  spot  where  he  had  been  an  hour  before.  The 
pensive  moon  was  already  up,  and  its  soft  light  was  sleeping  on  the 
little  pond  at  the  back  of  the  grounds,  while  the  stars  seemed  smiling 
at  their  own  sparkling  rays  gleaming  up  from  the  beautiful  sheet  of 
water. 

Jerome  searched  in  vain  for  his  book ;  it  was  nowhere  to  be  found. 
Nothing,  save  the  bouquet  that  the  lady  had  dropped,  and  which  lay  half- 
buried  in  the  grass,  from  having  been  trodden  upon,  indicated  that 
any  one  had  been  there  that  evening.  The  stillness  of  death  reigned 
over  the  place;  even  the  little  birds,  that  had  before  been  twittering  and 
flying  about,  had  retired  for  the  night. 

Taking  up  the  bunch  of  flowers,  Jerome  returned  to  his  hotel. 
"  What  can  this  mean?  "  he  would  ask  himself;  "  and  why  should  they 
take  my  book?"  These  questions  he  put  to  himself  again  and  again 
dm-ing  his  walk.  His  sleep  was  broken  more  than  once  that  night,  and 
he  welcomed  the  early  dawn  as  it  made  its  appearance. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

THE    HAPPY   MEETING. 

AFTER  passing  a  sleepless  night,  and  hearing  the  clock  strike  six, 
Jerome  took  from  his  table  a  book,  and  thus  endeavored  to  pass  away 
the  hours  before  breakfast-time.  While  thus  engaged,  a  servant  entered 
and  handed  him  a  note.  Hastily  tearing  it  open,  Jerome  read  as 

follows :  — 

"  SIR,  —  I  owe  you  an  apology  for  the  abrupt  manner  in  Avhich  I 
addressed  you  last  evening,  and  the  inconvenience  to  which  you  were 
subjected  by  some  of  my  household.  If  you  will  honor  us  with  your 
presence  to-day  at  four  o'clock,  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  give  you  due 
satisfaction.  My  servant  will  be  waiting  with  the  carriage  at  half-past 
three. 

I  am,  sir,  yours,  &c.,  J.  DE  YEN  ANT. 

JEROME  FLETCHER,  Esq. 


CLOTELLE.  95 

Who  this  gentleman  was,  and  how  he  had  found  out  his  name  and  the 
hotel  at  which  he  was  stopping,  were  alike  mysteries  to  Jerome.  And 
this  note  seemed  to  his  puzzled  brain  like  a  challenge.  "  Satisfaction?  " 
He  had  not  asked  for  satisfaction.  However,  he  resolved  to  accept  the 
invitation,  and,  if  need  be,  meet  the  worst.  At  any  rate,  this  most 
mysterious  and  complicated  affair  would  be  explained. 

The  clock  on  a  neighboring  church  had  scarcely  finished  striking 
three  when  a  servant  announced  to  Jerome  that  a  carriage  had  called 
for  him.  In  a  few  minutes,  he  was  seated  in  a  sumptuous  barouche, 
drawn  by  a  pair  of  beautiful  iron-grays,  and  rolling  over  a  splendid 
gravel  road  entirely  shaded  by  trees,  which  appeared  to  have  been  the 
accumulated  growth  of  many  centuries.  The  carriage  soon  stopped  at 
a  low  villa,  which  was  completely  embowered  in  trees. 

Jerome  alighted,  'iand  was  shown  into  a  superb  room,  with  the  walls 
finely  decorated  with  splendid  tapestry,  and  the  ceilings  exquisitely 
frescoed.  The  walls  were  hung  with  fine  specimens  from  the  hands  of 
the  great  Italian  masters,  and  one  by  a  German  artist,  representing  a 
beautiful  monkish  legend  connected  with  the  "Holy  Catharine,"  an 
illustrious  lady  of  Alexandria.  High-backed  chairs  stood  around  the 
room,  rich  curtains  of  crimson  damask  hung  in  folds  on  either  side  of 
the  window,  and  a  beautiful,  rich,  Turkey  carpet  covered  the  floor.  In 
the  centre  of  the  room  stood  a  table  covered  with  books,  in  the  midst 
of  which  was  a  vase  of  fresh  flowers,  loading  the  atmosphere  with  their 
odors.  A  faint  %ht,  together  with  the  quiet  of  the  hour,  gave  beauty 
beyond  description  to  the  whole  scene.  A  half-open  door  showed  a  fine 
marble  floor  to  an  adjoining  room,  with  pictures,  statues,  and  anti 
quated  sofas,  and  flower-pots  filled  with  rare  plants  of  every  kind  and 
description. 

Jerome  had  scarcely  run  his  eyes  over  the  beauties  of  the  room  when 
the  elderly  gentleman  whom  he  had  met  on  the  previous  evening  made 
his  appearance,  followed  by  the  little  boy,  and  introduced  himself  as 
.Mr.  Devenant.  A  moment  more  and  a  lady,  a  beautiful  brunette, 
dressed  in  black,  with  long  black  curls  hanging  over  her  shoulders, 
entered  the  room.  Her  dark,  bright  eyes  flashed  a"s  she  caught  the  first 
sight  of  Jerome.  The  gentleman  immediately  arose  on  the  entrance  of 
the  lady,  and  Mr.  Devenant  was  in  the  act  of  introducing  the  stranger 
when  he  observed  that  Jerome  had  sunk  back  upon  the  sofa,  in  a  faint 
voice  exclaiming,  — 

"It  is  she!" 

After  this,  all  was  dark  and  dreary.  How  long  he  remained  in  this 
condition,  it  was  for  others  to  tell.  The  lady  knelt  by  his  side  and  wept; 
and  when  he  carne  to,  he  found  himself  stretched  upon  the  sofa  with  his 
boots  off  and  his  head  resting  upon  a  pillow.  By  his  side  sat  the  old 


96  CLOTELLE. 

man,  with  the  smelling-bottle  in  one  hand  and  a  glass  of  water  in  the 
other,  while  the  little  boy  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  sofa.  As  soon  as 
Jerome  had  so  far  recovered  as  to  be  able  to  speak,  he  said,  — 

"  Where  am  I,  and  what  does  all  this  mean?  " 

"  Wait  awhile,"  replied  the  old  man,  "  and  I  will  tell  you  all." 

After  the  lapse  of  some  ten  minutes,  Jerome  arose  from  the  sofa,  ad 
justed  his  apparel,  and  said, — 

"  I  am  now  ready  to  hear  anything  you  have  to  say." 

"  You  were  bom  in  America?  "  said  the  old  man. 

"  I  was,"  he  replied. 

"  And  you  knew  a  girl  named  Clotelle,"  continued  the  old  man. 

"  Yes,  and  I  loved  her  as  I  can  love  none  other." 

"  The  lady  whom  you  met  so  mysteriously  last  evening  was  she,"  said 
Mr.  Devenaut. 

Jerome  was  silent,  but  the  fountain  of  mingled  grief  and  joy  stole  out 
from  beneath  his  eyelashes,  and  glistened  like  pearls  upon  his  ebony 
cheeks. 

At  this  juncture,  the  lady  again  entered  the  room.  With  an  enthusi 
asm  that  can  be  better  imagined  than  described,  Jerome  sprang  from  the 
sofa,  and  they  rushed  into  each  other's  arms,  to  the  great  surprise  of  the 
old  gentleman  and  little  Antoine,  and  to  the  amusement  of  the  servants 
who  had  crept  up,  one  by  one  and  were  hid  behind  the  doors  or  loiter 
ing  in  the  hall.  When  they  had  given  vent  to  their  feelings  and  suffi 
ciently  recovered  their  presence  of  mind,  they  resumed^eir  seats. 

"  How  did  you  find  out  my  name  and  address  ?  "  inquired  Jerome. 

"  After  you  had  left  the  grave-yard,"  replied  Clotelle,  "  our  little  boy 
said, '  Oh,  mamma !  if  there  ain't  a  book !'  I  opened  the  book,  and  saw 
your  name  written  in  it,  and  also  found  a  card  of  the  Hotel  de  Leon. 
Papa  wished  to  leave  the  book,  and  said  it  was  only  a  fancy  of  mine 
that  I  had  ever  seen  you  before;  but  I  was  perfectly  convinced  that  you 
were  my  own  dear  Jerome." 

As  she  uttered  the  last  words,  tears  —  the  sweet  bright  tears  that  love 
alone  can  bring  forth  —  bedewed  her  cheeks. 

"  Are  you  married?  "  now  inquired  Clotelle,  with  a  palpitating  heart 
and  trembling  voice. 

"  No,  I  am  not,  and  never  have  been,"  was  Jerome's  reply. 

"  Then,  thank  God!"  she  exclaimed,  in  broken  accents. 

It  was  then  that  hope  gleamed  up  amid  the  crushed  and  broken 
flowers  of  her  heart,  and  a  bright  flash  darted  forth  like  a  sunbeam. 

"  Are  you  single  now?  "  asked  Jerome. 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Then  you  will  be  mine  after  all?  "  said  he  with  a  smile. 

Her  dark,  rich  hair  had  partly  come  down,  and  hung  still  more  loosely 


CLOTELLE.  97 

over  her  shoulders  than  when  she  first  appeared ;  and  her  eyes,  now  full 
of  animation  and  vivacity,  and  her  sweet,  harmonious,  and  well-modu 
lated  voice,  together  with  her  modesty,  self-possession,  and  engaging 
manners,  made  Clotelle  appear  lovely  beyond  description.  Although 
past  the  age  when  men  ought  to  think  of  matrimony,  yet  the  scene  be 
fore  Mr.  Devenant  brought  vividly  to  his  mind  the  time  when  he  was 
young  and  had  a  loving  bosom  companion  living,  and  tears  were  wiped 
from  the  old  man's  eyes.  A  new  world  seemed  to  unfold  itself  before 
the  eyes  of  the  happy  lovers,  and  they^were  completely  absorbed  in  con 
templating  the  future.  Furnished  by  nature  with  a  disposition  to  study, 
and  a  memory  so  retentive  that  all  who  knew  her  were  surprised  at  the 
ease  with  which  she  acquired  her  education  and  general  information, 
Clotelle  might  now  be  termed  a  most  accomplished  lady.  After  her 
marriage  with  young  Devenant,  they  proceeded  to  India,  where  the  hus 
band's  regiment  was  stationed.  Soon  after  their  arrival,  however,  a 
battle  was  fought  with  the  natives,  in  which  several  officers  fell,  among 
whom  was  Captain  Devenant.  Tho  father  of  the  young  captain  being 
there  at  the  time,  took  his  daughter-in-law  and  brought  her  back  to 
France,  where  they  took  up  their  abode  at  the  old  homestead. 

Old  Mr.  Devenant  was  possessed  of  a  large  fortune,  all  of  which  he 
intended  for  his  daughter-in-law  and  her  only  child. 

Although  Clotelle  had  married  young  Devenant,  she  had  not  forgotten 
her  first  love,  and  her  father-in-law  now  willingly  gave  his  consent  to 
her  marriage  with  Jerome.  Jerome  felt  that  to  possess  the  woman  of 
his  love,  even  at  that  late  hour,  was  compensation  enough  for  the  years 
that  he  had  been  separated  from  her,  and  Clotelle  wanted  no  better  evi 
dence  of  his  love  for  her  than  the  fact  of  his  having  remained  so  long 
unmarried.  It  was  indeed  a  rare  instance  of  devotion  and  constancy  in 
a  man,  and  the  young  widow  gratefully  appreciated  it. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  Jerome  led  his  intended  bride  to  the 
window,  and  the  magnificent  moonlight  illuminated  the  countenance  of 
the  lovely  [Clotelle,  while  inward  sunshine,  emanating  from  a  mind  at 
ease,  and  her  own  virtuous  thoughts,  gave  brightness  to  her  eyes  and 
made  her  appear  a  very  angel.  This  was  the  first  evening  that  Jerome 
had  been  in  her  company  since  the  night  when,  to  effect  his  escape  from 
prison,  she  disguised  herself  in  male  attire.  How  different  the  scene 
now.  Free  instead  of  slaves,  wealthy  instead  of  poor,  and  on  the  eve 
of  an  event  that  seemed  likely  to  result  in  a  life  of  happiness  to  both. 
7 


98  CLOTELLE. 

CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

THE   HAPPY  DAY. 

IT  was  a  bright  day  in  the  latter  part  of  October  that  Jerome  and 
Clotelle  set  out  for  the  church,  where  the  marriage  ceremony  was  to  be 
performed.  The  clear,  bracing  air  added  buoyancy  to  every  movement, 
and  the  sun  poured  its  brilliant  rays  through  the  deeply-stained  windows, 
as  the  happy  couple  entered  the  sanctuary,  followed  by  old  Mr.  Deve- 
nant,  whose  form,  bowed  down  with  age,  attracted  almost  as  much  at 
tention  from  the  assembly  as  did  the  couple  more  particularly  inter 
ested. 

As  the  ceremonies  were  finished  and  the  priest  pronounced  the  bene 
diction  on  the  newly-married  pair,  Clotelle  whispered  in  the  ear  of 
Jerome,— 

" '  No  power  in  death  shall  tear  our  names  apart, 
As  none  in  life  could  rend  thee  from  my  heart.' " 

A  smile  beamed  on  every  face  as  the  wedding-party  left  the  church 
and  entered  their  carriage.  What  a  happy  day,  after  ten  years'  separa 
tion,  when,  both  hearts  having  been  blighted  for  a  time,  they  are  brought 
together  by  the  hand  of  a  beneficent  and  kind  Providence,  and  united 
in  holy  wedlock. 

Everything  being  arranged  for  a  wedding  tour  extending  up  the 
Rhine,  the  party  set  out  the  same  day  for  Antwerp.  There  are  many 
rivers  of  greater  length  and  width  than  the  Rhine.  Our  Mississippi 
would  swallow  up  half  a  dozen  Rhines.  The  Hudson  is  grander,  the 
Tiber,  the  Po,  and  the  Mincio  more  classic ;  the  Thames  and  Seine  bear 
upon  their  waters  greater  amounts  of  wealth  and  commerce ;  the  Nile 
and  the  Euphrates  have  a  greater  antiquity;  but  for  a  combination  of 
interesting  historical  incidents  and  natural  scenery,  the  Rhine  surpasses 
them  all.  Nature  has  so  ordained  it  that  those  who  travel  in  the  valley 
of  the  Rhine  shall  see  the  river,  for  there  never  will  be  a  railroad  upon 
its  banks.  So  mountainous  is  the  land  that  it  would  have  to  be  one 
series  of  tunnels.  Every  three  or  four  miles  from  the  time  you  enter 
this  glorious  river,  hills,  dales,  castles,  and  crags  present  themselves  as 
the  steamer  glides  onward. 

Their  first  resting-place  for  any  length  of  time  was  at  Coblentz,  at 
the  mouth  of  the  "  Blue  Moselle,"  the  most  interesting  place  on  the 
river.  From  Coblentz  they  went  to  Brussels,  where  they  had  the 
greatest  attention  paid  them.  Besides  being  provided  with  letters  of 
introduction,  Jerome's  complexion  secured  for  him  more  deference  than 
<s  usually  awarded  to  travellers. 

Having  letters  of  introduction  to  M.  Deceptiax,  the  great  lac«  manu- 


CLOTELLE.  99 

facturer,  that  gentleman  received  them  with  distinguished  honors,  and 
gave  them  a  splendid  soiree,  at  which  the  elite  of  the  city  were  assem 
bled.  The  sumptuously-furnished  mansion  was  lavishly  decorated  for 
the  occasion,  and  every  preparation  made  that  could  add  to  the  novelty 
or  interest  of  the  event. 

Jerome,  with  his  beautiful  bride,  next  visited  Cologne,  the  largest  and 
wealthiest  city  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine.  The  Cathedral  of  Cologne 
is  the  most  splendid  structure  of  the  kind  in  Europe,  and  Jerome  and 
Clotelle  viewed  with  interest  the  beautiful  arches  and  columns  of  this 
stupendous  building,  which  strikes  with  awe  the  beholder,  as  he  gazes 
at  its  unequalled  splendor,  surrounded,  as  it  is,  by  villas,  cottages,  and 
palace-like  mansions,  with  the  enchanting  Rhine  winding  through  the 
vine-covered  hills.  * 

After  strolling  over  miles  and  miles  of  classic  ground,  and  visiting 
castles,  whose  legends  and  tradions  have  given  them  an  enduring  fame, 
our  delighted  travellers  started  for  Geneva,  bidding  the  picturesque 
banks  of  the  Rhine  a  regretful  farewell.  Being  much  interested  in  lit 
erature,  and  aware  that  Geneva  was  noted  for  having  beea  the  city  of 
refuge  to  the  victims  of  religious  and  political  persecution,  Jerome  ar 
ranged  to  stay  here  for  some  days.  He  was  provided  with  a  letter  of 
introduction  to  M.  de  Stee,  who  had  been  a  fellow-soldier  of  Mr.  Deve- 
nant  in  the  East  India  wars,  and  they  were  invited  to  make  his  house 
their  home  during  their  sojourn.  On  the  side  of  a  noble  mountain, 
whose  base  is  kissed  by  the  waves  of  Lake  Geneva,  and  whose  slopes 
are  decked  with  verdure  to  the  utmost  peak  of  its  rocky  crown,  is  situ 
ated  the  delightful  country-residence  of  this  wealthy,  retired  French  of 
ficer.  A  winding  road,  with  frequent  climbs  and  brakes,  leads  from  the 
valley  to  this  enchanting  spot,  the  air  and  scenery  of  which  cannot  be 
surpassed  in  the  world. 


CHAPTER     XXXIV. 

CLOTELLE   MEETS   HER   FATHER. 

THE  clouds  that  had  skirted  the  .sky  during  the  day  broke  at  last, 
and  the  rain  fell  in  torrents,  as  Jerome  and  Clotelle  retired  for  the  night, 
in  the  little  town  of  Ferney,  on  the  borders  of  Lake  Leman.  The  peals 
of  thunder,  and  flashes  of  vivid  lightening,  which  seemed  to  leap  from 
mountain  to  mountain  and  from  crag  to  crag,  reverberating  among  the 
surrounding  hills,  foretold  a  heavy  storm. 

"  I  would  we  were  back  at  Geneva,"  said  Clotelle,  as  she  heard  groans 
issuing  from  an  adjoining  room.  The  sounds,  at  first  faint,  grew  louder 


100  CLOTELLE. 

and  louder,  plainly  indicating  that  some  person  was  suffering  extreme 
pain. 

"I  did  not  like  this  hotel,  much,  when  we  came  in,"  said  Jerome, 
relighting  the  lamp,  which  had  been  accidentally  extinguished. 

"Nor  I,"  returned  Clotelle. 

The  shrieks  increased,  and  an  occasional  "She's  dead!"  "I  killed 
her!"  "No,  she  is  not  dead!"  and  such-like  expressions,  would  be 
heard  from  the  person,  who  seemed  to  be  deranged. 

The  thunder  grew  louder,  and  the  flashes  of  lightening  more  vivid, 
while  the  noise  from  the  sick-room  seemed  to  increase. 

As  Jerome  opened  the  door,  to  learn,  if  possible,  the  cause  of  the  cries 
and  groans,  he  could  distinguish  the  words,  "  She's  dead !  yes,  she's 
dead !  but  I  did  not  kill  her.  She  was  my  child !  my  own  daughter.  I 
loved  her,  and  yet  I  did  not  protect  her." 

"Whoever  he  is,"  said  Jerome,  "he's  crack-brained;  some  robber, 
probably,  from  the  mountains." 

The  storm  continued  to  rage,  and  the  loud  peals  of  thunder  and  sharp 
flashes  of  lightening,  together  with  the  shrieks  and  moans  of  the  maniac 
in  the  adjoining  room,  made  the  night  a  fearful  one.  The  long  hours 
wore  slowly  away,  but  neither  Jerome  nor  his  wife  could  sleep,  and  they 
arose  at  an  early  hour  in  the  morning,  ordered  breakfast,  and  resolved  to 
return  to  Geneva. 

"  I  am  sorry,  sir,  that  you  were  so  much  disturbed  by  the  sick  man 
last  night,"  said  the  landlord,  as  he  handed  Jerome  his  bill.  "  I  should 
be  glad  if  he  would  get  able  to  go  away,  or  die,  for  he's  a  deal  of 
trouble  to  me.  Several  persons  have  left  my  house  on  his  account." 

"Where  is  he  from?  "  inquired  Jerome. 

"  He's  from  the  United  States,  and  has  been  here  a  week  to-day,  and 
has  been  crazy  ever  since." 

"  Has  he  no  friends  with  him?  "  asked  the  guest. 

"  No,  he  is  alone,"  was  the  reply. 

Jerome  related  to  his  wife  what  he  had  learned  from  the  landlord,  re 
specting  the  sick  man,  and  the  intelligence  impressed  her  so  strongly, 
that  she  requested  him  to  make  further  inquiries  concerning  the  stran 
ger. 

He  therefore  consulted  the  book  in  which  guests  usually  register 
their  names,  and,  to  his  great  surprise,  found  that  the  American's  name 
was  Henry  Linwood,  and  that  he  was  from  Richmond,  Va. 

It  was  with  feelings  of  trepidation  that  Clotelle  heard  these  particulars 
from  the  lips  of  her  husband. 

"  We  must  see  this  poor  man,  whoever  he  is,"  said  she,  as  Jerome  fin 
ished  the  sentence. 

The  landlord  was  glad  to  hear  that  his  guests  felt  some  interest  in  the 


GLOTELLE.  101 

sick  man,  and  promised  that  the  invalid's  room  should  be  got  ready  for 
their  reception. 

The  clock  in  the  hall  was  just  striking  ten,  as  Jerome  passed  through 
and  entered  the  sick  man's  chamber.  Stretched  upon  a  mattress,  with 
both  hands  tightly  bound  to  the  bedstead,  the  friendless  stranger  was  in 
deed  a  pitiful  sight.  Has  dark,  dishevelled  hair  prematurely  gray,  his  long, 
unshaven  beard,  and  the  wildness  of  the  eyes  which  glanced  upon  them 
as  they  opened  the  door  and  entered,  caused  the  faint  hope  which  had 
so  suddenly  risen  in  Clotelle's  heart,  to  sink,  and  she  felt  that  this  man 
could  claim  no  kindred  with  her.  Certainly,  he  bore  no  resemblance  to 
the  man  whom  she  had  called  her  father,  and  who  had  fondly  dandled 
her  on  his  knee  in  those  happy  days  of  childhood. 

"  Help !  "  cried  the  poor  man,  as  Jerome  and  his  wife  walked  into  the 
room.  His  eyes  glared,  and  shriek  after  shriek  broke  forth  from  his 
parched  and  fevered  lips. 

"  No,  I  did  not  kill  my  daughter !  —  I  did  not !  she  is  not  dead !  Yes, 
she  is  dead !  but  I  did  not  kill  her  —  poor  girl !  Look !  that  is  she !  No, 
it  cannot  be !  she  cannot  come  here !  it  cannot  be  my  poor  Clotelle." 

At  the  sound  of  her  own  name,  coming  from  the  maniac's  lips,  Clotelle 
gasped  for  breath,  and  her  husband  saw  that  she  had  grown  deadly  pale. 
It  seemed  evident  to  him  that  the  man  was  either  guilty  of  some  terri 
ble  act,  or  imagined  himself  to  be.  His  eyeballs  rolled  in  their  sockets, 
and  his  features  showed  that  he  was  undergoing  "  the  tortures  of  that 
inward  hell,"  which  seemed  to  set  his  whole  brain  on  fire. 

After  recovering  her  self-possession  and  strength,  Clotelle  approached 
the  bedside,  and  laid  her  soft  hand  upon  the  stranger's  hot  and  fevered 
brow. 

One  long,  loud  shriek  rang  out  on  the  air,  and  a  piercing  cry,  "It 
is  she !  —  Yes,  it  is  she !  I  see,  I  see !  Ah !  no,  it  is  not  my  daughter ! 
She  would  not  come  to  me  if  she  could! "  broke  forth  from  him. 

"I  am  your  daughter,"  said  Clotelle,  as  she  pressed  her  handkerchief 
to  her  face,  and  sobbed  aloud. 

Like  balls  of  fire,  the  poor  man's  eyes  rolled  and  glared  tj.pon  the 
company,  while  large  drops  of  perspiration  ran  down  his  pale  and  ema 
ciated  face.  Strange  as  the  scene  appeared,  all  present  saw  that  it  was 
indeed  a  meeting  between  a  father  and  his  long-lost  daughter.  Jerome 
now  ordered  all  present  to  leave  the  room,  except  the  nurse,  and  every 
effort  was  at  once  made  to  quiet  the  sufferer.  When  calm,  a  joyous 
smile  would  illuminate  the  sick  man's  face,  and  a  strange  light  beam 
in  his  eyes,  as  he  seemed  to  realize  that  she  who  stood  before  him  was 
indeed  his  child. 

For  two  long  days  and  nights  did  Clotelle  watch  at  the  bedside  of  her 
father  before  he  could  speak  to  her  intelligently.  Sometimes,  in  his  in- 


102  CLOTELLS. 

sane  fits,  he  would  rave  in  the  most  frightful  manner,  and  then,  in  a  fevr 
moments,  would  be  as  easily  governed  as  a  child.  At  last,  however, 
after  a  long  and  apparently  refreshing  sleep,  he  awoke  suddenly  to  a 
full  consciousness  that  it  was  indeed  his  daughter  who  was  watching  so 
patiently  by  his  side. 

The  presence  of  his  long  absent  child  had  a  soothing  effect  upon  Mr. 
Linwood,  and  he  now  recovered  rapidly  from  the  sad  and  almost  hope 
less  condition  in  which  she  had  found  him.  When  able  to  converse, 
without  danger  of  a  relapse,  he  told  Clotelle  of  his  fruitless  efforts  to 
obtain  a  clew  to  her  whereabouts  after  old  Mrs.  Miller  had  sold  her  to 
the  slave-trader.  In  answer  to  his  daughter's  inquiries  about  his  family 
affairs  up  to  the  time  that  he  left  America,  he  said,  — 

"  I  blamed  my  wife  for  your  being  sold  and  sent  away,  for  I  thought 
she  and  her  mother  were  acting  in  collusion ;  But  I  afterwards  found 
that  I  had  blamed  her  wrongfully.  Poor  woman!  she  knew  that  I 
loved  your  mother,  and  feeling  herself  forsaken,  she  grew  melancholy 
and  died  in  a  decline  three  years  ago." 

Here  both  father  and  daughter  wept  at  the  thought  of  other  days. 
When  they  had  recovered  their  composure,  Mr.  Linwood  went  on  again : 

"  Old  Mrs.  Miller,"  said  he,  "  after  the  death  of  Gertrude,  aware  that 
she  had  contributed  much  toward  her  unhappiness,  took  to  the  free  use 
of  intoxicating  drinks,  and  became  the  most  brutal  creature  that  ever 
lived.  She  whipped  her  slaves  without  the  slightest  provocation,  and 
seemed  to  take  delight  in  inventing  new  tortures  with  which  to  punish 
them.  One  night  last  winter,  after  having  flogged  one  of  her  slaves 
nearly  to  death,  she  returned  to  her  room,  and  by  some  means  the  bed 
ding  took  fire,  and  the  house  was  in  flames  before  any  one  was  awakened. 
There  was  no  one  in  the  building  at  the  time  but  the  old  woman 
and  the  slaves,  and  although  the  latter  might  have  saved  their  mistress, 
they  made  no  attempt  to  do  so.  Thus,  after  a  frightful  career  of  many 
years,  this  hard-hearted  woman  died  a  most  miserable  death,  unla- 
mented  by  a  single  person." 

Clotelle  wiped  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  as  her  father  finished  this  story, 
for,  although  Mrs.  Miller  had  been  her  greatest  enemy,  she  regretted  to 
learn  that  her  end  had  been  such  a  sad  one. 

"My  peace  of  mind  destroyed,"  resumed  the  father,  "and  broken 
down  in  health,  my  physician  advised  me  to  travel,  with  the  hope  of 
recruiting  myself,  and  I  sailed  from  New  York  two  months  ago." 

Being  brought  up  in  America,  and  having  all  the  prejudice  against 
color  which  characterizes  his  white  fellow-countrymen,  Mr.  Linwood 
very  much  regretted  that  his  daughter,  although  herself  tinctured  with 
African  blood,  should  have  married  a  black  man,  and  he  did  not  fail  to 
express  to  her  his  dislike  of  her  husband's  complexion. 


CLOTELLE.  103 

"  I  married  him,"  said  Clotelle,  "  because  I  loved  him.  Why  should 
the  white  man  be  esteemed  as  better  than  the  black  ?  I  find  no  differ 
ence  in  men  on  account  of  their  complexion.  One  of  the  cardinal  prin 
ciples  of  Christianity  and  freedom  is  the  equality  and  brotherhood  of 
man." 

Every  day  Mr.  Linwood  became  more  and  more  familiar  with  Jerome, 
and  eventually  they  were  on  the  most  intimate  terms. 

Fifteen  days  from  the  time  that  Clotelle  was  introduced  into  her 
.father's  room,  they  left  Ferney  for  Geneva.  Many  were  the  excursions 
Olotelle  made  under  the  shadows  of  Mont  Blanc,  and  with  her  husband 
and  father  for  companions;  she  was  now  in  the  enjoyment  of  pleasures 
hitherto  unknown. 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

THE  FATHER'S  BE  SOLVE. 

AWARE  that  her  father  was  still  a  slave-owner,  Clotelle  determined  to 
use  all  her  persuasive  power  to  induce  him  to  set  them  free,  and  in  this 
effort  she  found  a  substantial  supporter  in  her  husband. 

"  I  have  always  treated  my  slaves  well,"  said  Mr.  Linwood  to  Jerome, 
as  the  latter  expressed  his  abhorrence  of  the  system ;  "  and  my  neigh 
bors,  too,  are  generally  good  men;  for  slavery  in  Virginia  is  not  like 
slavery  in  the  other  States,"  continued  the  proud  son  of  the  Old  Do 
minion. 

"  Then*  right  to  be  free,  Mr.  Linwood,"  said  Jerome,  "is  taken  from 
them,  and  they  have  no  security  for  their  comfort,  but  the  humanity 
and  generosity  of  men,  who  have  been  trained  to  regard  them  not  as 
brethren,  but  as  mere  property.  Humanity  and  generosity  are,  at  best, 
but  poor  guaranties  for  the  protection  of  those  who  cannot  assert 
their  rights,  and  over  whom  law  throws  no  protection." 

It  was  with  pleasure  that  Clotelle  obtained  from  her  father  a  promise 
that  he  would  liberate  all  his  slaves  on  his  return  to  Kichmond.  In  a 
beautiful  little  villa,  situated  in  a  pleasant  spot,  fringed  with  hoary  rocks 
and  thick  dark  woods,  within  sight  of  the  deep  blue  waters  of  Lake 
Leman,  Mr.  Linwood,  his  daughter,  and  her  husband,  took  up  their  resi 
dence  for  a  short  time.  For  more  than  three  weeks,  this  little  party 
spent  their  time  in  visiting  the  birth-place  of  Kousseau,  and  the  former 
abodes  of  Byron,  Gibbon,  Voltaire,  De  Stael,  Shelley,  and  other  literary 
characters. 

We  can  scarcely  contemplate  a  visit  to  a  more  historic  and  interesting 
place  than  Geneva  and  its  vicinity.  Here,  Calvin,  that  great  luminary 


104  CLOTELLE. 

in  the  Church,  lived  and  ruled  for  years;  here,  Voltaire,  the  mighty  ge 
nius,  who  laid  the  foundation  of  the   French  Revolution,   and  who 
boasted,  "  When  I  shake  my  wig,  I  powder  the  whole  republic,"  governed 
in  the  higher  walks  of  life. 
Fame  is  generally  the  recompense,  not  of  the  living,  but  of  the  dead, 

—  not  always  do  they  reap  and  gather  in  the  harvest  who  sow  the  seed; 
the  flame  of  its  altar  is  too  often  kindled  from  the  ashes  of  the  great. 
A  distinguished  critic  has  beautifully  said,  "  The  sound  which  the 
stream  of  high  thought,  carried  down  to  future  ages,  makes,  as  it  flows 

—  deep,  distant,  murmuring  ever  more,  like  the  waters  of  the  mighty 
ocean."    No  reputation  can  be  called  great  that  will  not  endure  this 
test.    The  distinguished  men  who  had  lived  in  Geneva  transfused  their 
spirit,  by  their  writings,  into  the  spirit  of  other  lovers  of  literature  and 
everything  that  treated  of  great  authors.     Jerome  and  Clotelle  lin 
gered  long  in  and  about  the  haunts  of  Geneva  and  Lake  Leman. 

An  autumn  sun  sent  down  her  bright  rays,  and  bathed  every  object 
in  her  glorious  light,  as  Clotelle,  accompanied  by  her  husband  and  father 
set  out  one  fine  morning  on  her  return  home  to  France.  Throughout 
the  whole  route,  Mr.  Linwood  saw  by  the  deference  paid  to  Jerome, 
whose  black  complexion  excited  astonishment  in  those  who  met  him, 
that  there  was  no  hatred  to  the  man  in  Europe,  on  account  of  his  color; 
that  what  is  called  prejudice  against  color  is  the  offspring  of  the  in 
stitution  of  slavery ;  and  he  felt  ashamed  of  his  own  countrymen,  when 
he  thought  of  the  complexion  as  distinctions,  made  in  the  United  States, 
and  resolved  to  dedicate  the  remainder  of  his  life  to  the  eradication  of 
this  unrepublican  and  unchristian  feeling  from  the  land  of  his  birth, 
on  his  return  home. 

After  a  stay  of  four  weeks  at  Dunkirk,  the  home  of  the  Fletchers, 
Mr.  Linwood  set  out  for  America,  with  the  full  determination  of  freeing 
his  slaves,  and  settling  them  in  one  of  the  Northern  States,  and  then 
to  return  to  France  to  end  his  days  in  the  society  of  his  beloved 
daughter. 


CLOTELLE.  105 

CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

THE  RETURN  HOME. 

THE  first  gun  fired  at  the  American  Flag,  on  the  12th  of  April,  1861,  at 
Fort  Sumter,  reverberated  all  over  Europe,  and  was  hailed  with  joy  by 
the  crowned  heads  of  the  Old  World,  who  hated  republican  institutions, 
and  who  thought  they  saw,  in  this  act  of  treason,  the  downfall  of  the  great 
American  experiment.  Most  citizens,  however,  of  the  United  States, 
who  were  then  sojourning  abroad,  hastened  home  to  take  part  in  the 
struggle,— some  to  side  with  the  rebels,  others  to  take  their  stand  with  the 
friends  of  liberty.  Among  the  latter,  none  came  with  swifter  steps  or 
more  zeal  than  Jerome  and  Clotelle  Fletcher.  They  arrived  in  New  Or 
leans  a  week  after  the  capture  of  that  city  by  the  expedition  under  the 
command  of  Major-Gen.  B.  F.  Butler.  But  how  changed  was  society 
since  Clotelle  had  last  set  feet  in  the  Crescent  City!  Twenty-two 
years  had  passed;  her  own  chequered  life  had  been  through  many  shift 
ing  scenes;  her  old  acquaintances  in  New  Orleans  had  all  disappeared; 
and  with  the  exception  of  the  black  faces  which  she  beheld  at  every 
turn,  and  which  in  her  younger  days  were  her  associates,  she  felt  her 
self  in  the  midst  of  strangers ;  and  these  were  arrayed  against  each 
other  in  mortal  combat.  Possessed  with  ample  means,  Mr.  and  Mrs-. 
Fletcher  set  about  the  work  of  assisting  those  whom  the  rebellion  had 
placed  in  a  state  of  starvation  and  sickness. 

With  a  heart  overflowing  with  the  milk  of  human  kindness,  and  a 
tear  for  every  sufferer,  no  matter  of  what  color  or  sect,  Clotelle  was  soon 
finown  as  the  "  Angel  of  Mercy." 

The  "  General  Order  No.  63,"  issued  on  the  22d  of  August,  1862,  by 
Gen.  Butler,  recognizing,  and  calling  into  the  service  of  the  Federal 
Government,  the  battalion  of  colored  men  known  as  the  "  Native 
Guard,"  at  once  gave  fall  scope  to  Jerome's  military  enthusiasm;  and 
he  made  haste  to  enlist  in  the  organization. 

The  "  Native  Guard  "  did  good  service  in  New  Orleans  and  vicinity, 
till  ordered  to  take  part  in  the  seige  of  Port  Hudson,  where  they  ap 
peared  under  the  name  of  the  "  First  Louisiana,"  and  under  the  imme 
diate  command  of  Lieut.-Col.  Bassett.  The  heroic  attack  of  this 
regiment,  made  on  the  27th  of  May,  1863,  its  unsurpassed  "  charge," 
its  great  loss,  and  its  severe  endurance  on  the  field  of  battle,  are  inci 
dents  which  have  passed  into  history.  The  noble  daring  of  the  First 
Louisiana  gained  for  the  black  soldiers  in  our  army  the  praise  of  all 
Americans  who  value  Republican  institutions. 

There  was,  however,  one  scene,  the  closing  one  in  the  first  day's 
attack  on  Port  Hudson,  which,  while  it  reflects  undying  credit  upon 


106  CLOTELLE. 

the  bravery  of  the  negro,  pays  but  a  sorry  tribute  to  the  humanity  of 
the  white  general  who  brought  the  scene  into  existence.  The  field  was 
strewn  with  the  dead,  the  dying,  and  the  wounded;  and  as  the  jaded 
regiments  were  leaving  the  ground,  after  their  unsuccessful  attack,  it 
was  found  that  Capt.  Payne,  of  the  Third  Louisiana,  had  been  killed ; 
and  his  body,  which  was  easily  distinguished  by  the  uniform,  was  still 
on  the  battle-field.  The  colonel  of  the  regiment,  pointing  to  where  the 
body  lay,  asked,  "  Are  there  four  men  here  who  will  fetch  the  body  of 
Capt.  Payne  from  the  field?"  Four  men  stepped  out,  and  at  once 
started.  But,  as  the  body  lay  directly  under  the  range  of  the  rebel 
batteries,  they  were  all  swept  down  by  the  grape,  canister,  and  shell 
which  were  let  loose  by  the  enemy.  The  question  was  again  repeated, 
"  Are  there  four  men  who  will  go  for  the  body? "  The  required  num 
ber  came  forth,  and  started  upon  a  run;  but,  ere  they  could  reach  the 
spot,  they  were  cut  down.  "Are  there  four  more  who  will  try?" 
The  third  call  was  answered  in  the  affirmative,  and  the  men  started 
upon  the  double-quick.  They,  however,  fell  before  getting  as  far  as 
the  preceding  four.  Twelve  men  had  been  killed  in  the  effort  to  obtain 
the  body  of  the  brave  Payne,  but  to  no  purpose.  Humanity  forbade 
another  trial,  and  yet  it  was  made.  "  Are  there  four  more  men  in  the 
regiment  who  will  volunteer  to  go  for  Capt.  Payne's  body?  "  shouted 
the  officer.  Four  men  sprang  forward,  as  if  fearful  that  they  would 
miss  the  opportunity  of  these  last:  one  was  Jerome  Fletcher,  the  hero 
of  our  story.  They  started  upon  the  run;  and,  strange  to  tell,  all  of 
them  reached  the  body,  and  had  nearly  borne  it  from  the  field,  when 
two  of  the  number  were  cut  down.  Of  these,  one  was  Jerome.  His 
head  was  entirely  torn  off  by  a  shell.  The  body  of  the  deceased  officer* 
having  been  rescued,  an  end  was  put  to  the  human  sacrifice. 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

THE  ANGEL  OF  MERCY. 

THE  sad  intelligence  of  Jerome's  death  was  brought  to  Clotelle  while 
she,  was  giving  her  personal  attention  to  the  sick  and  wounded  that 
filled  the  hospitals  of  New  Orleans.  For  a  time  she  withdrew  from  -the 
gaze  of  mankind,  and  gave  herself  up  to  grief.  Few  unions  had  been 
productive  of  more  harmonious  feelings  than  hers.  Arid  this  blow,  so 
unexpected  and  at  a  time  when  she  was  experiencing  such  a  degree  of 
excitement  caused  by  the  rebellion,  made  her,  indeed,  feel  the  affliction 
severely. 


CLOTELLE.  107 

But  the  newspaper  accounts  of  the  intense  suffering  of  Union  prison 
ers  in  the  rebel  States  aroused  her,  and  caused  her  to  leave  her  retire 
ment.  In  the  month  of  October,  1863,  Clotelle  resolved  to  visit 
Andersonville,  Ga.,  for  the  purpose  of  alleviating  the  hardships  of  our 
sick  and  imprisoned  soldiers,  and  at  once  put  her  resolution  into  effect 
by  going  immediately  to  that  place.  After  crossing  the  lines,  she  passed 
as  a  rebel. lady,  to  enable  her  the  more  successfully  to  carry  out  her 
object.  On  her  arrival  at  Andersonville,  Clotelle  took  up  her  abode 
with  a  private  family,  of  Union  proclivities,  and  commenced  her  work 
of  mercy.  She  first  visited  the  hospitals,  the  buildings  of  which  were 
merest  excuses  for  hospitals. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  November;  and,  even  in  that  southern  lati 
tude,  the  cold  made  these  miserable  abodes  uncomfortable  nights  and 
mornings.  The  dirty,  unventilated  rooms,  with  nothing  but  straw  upon 
the  cold,  damp  floor,  for  beds,  upon  which  lay  the  ragged,  emaciated 
Union  prisoners,  worn  down  to  skin  and  bone  with  disease  and  starva 
tion,  with  their  sunken  eyes  and  wild  looks,  made  them  appear  hideous 
in  the  extreme.  The  repulsive  scenes,  that  showed  the  suffering,  neg 
lect,  and  cruelty  which  these  poor  creatures  had  experienced,  made 
her  heart  sink  within  her. 

Having  paid  considerable  attention  to  hospital  life  in  Europe,  and  so 
recently  from  amongst  the  sick  at  New  Orleans,  Clotelle's  experience, 
suggestions,  and  liberal  expenditure  of  money,  would  have  added 
greatly  to  the  comfort  of  these  helpless  men,  if  the  rebel  authorities 
had  been  so  disposed.  But  their  hatred  to  Union  prisoners  was  so  ap 
parent,  that  the  interest  which  this  angel  of  humanity  took  in  the  con 
dition  of  the  rebel  sick  could  not  shield  her  from  the  indignation  of 
the  secession  officials  for  her  good  feeling  for  Union  men.  However, 
with  a  determination  to  do  all  in  her  power  for  the  needy,  she  labored 
in  season  and  out. 

The  brutal  treatment  and  daily  murders  committed  upon  our  soldiers 
in  the  Andersonville  prisons  caused  Clotelle  to  secretly  aid  prisoners  in 
their  escape.  In  the  latter  work,  she  brought  to  her  assistance  the  ser 
vices  of  a  negro  man  named  Pete.  This  individual  was  employed  about 
the  prison,  and,  having  the  entire  confidence  of  the  commandant,  was 
in  a  position  to  do  much  good  without  being  suspected.  Pete  was  an 
original  character,  of  a  jovial  nature,  and,  when  intending  some  serious 
adventure,  would  appear  very  solemn,  and  usually  singing  a  doleful 
ditty,  often  the  following,  which  was  a  favorite  with  him :  — 

"  Come  listen,  all  you  darkies,  come  listen  to  my  song: 
It  am  about  ole  Massa,  who  use  me  bery  wrong. 
In  de  cole,  frosty  mornin',  it  an't  so  bery  nice, 
Wid  de  water  to  de  middle,  to  hoe  among  de  rice ; 


108  CLOTELLE. 

When  I  neber  hab  forgotten 
How  I  used  to  hoe  de  cotton, 
How  I  used  to  hoe  de  cotton, 

On  de  ole  Virginny  shore ; 
But  I'll  neber  hoe  de  cotton, 
Oh  I  neber  hoe  de  cotton 

Any  more. 

11  If  I  feel  de  drefful  hunger,  he  tink  it  am  a  vice, 
And  he  gib  me  for  my  dinner  a  little  broken  rice,  — 
A  little  broken  rice  and  a  bery  little  fat, 
And  he  grumble  like  de  debbil  if  I  eat  too  much  of  dat; 
When  I  neber  hab  forgotten,  etc. 

"  He  tore  me  from  my  Dinah ;  I  tought  my  heart  would  burst : 
He  made  me  lub  anoder  when  my  lub  was  wjd  de  first ; 
He  sole  my  picanuinnies  becase  he  got  dar  price, 
And  shut  me  in  de  marsh-field  to  hoe  among  de  rice; 
When  I  neber  hab  forgotten,  etc. 

"  And  all  de  day  I  hoe  dar,  in  all  de  heat  and  rain ; 
And,  as  I  hoe  away  dar,  my  heart  go  back  again,  — 
Back  to  de  little  cabin  dat  stood  among  de  corn, 
And  to  de  ole  plantation  where  she  and  I  war  born  I 
Oh  I  I  wish  1  had  forgotten,  etc. 

"  Den  Dinah  am  beside  me,  de  chil'ren  on  my  knee, 
And  dough  I  am  a  slave  dar,  it  'pears  to  me  I'm  free, 
Till  I  wake  up  from  my  dreaming,  and  wife  and  chil'ren  gone, 
I  hoe  away  and  weep  dar,  and  weep  dar  all  alone  I 
Oh  1  I  wish  I  had  forgotten,  etc. 

"  But  soon  a  day  am  comin',  a  day  I  long  to  see, 
When  dis  darky  in  de  cole  ground,  foreber  will  be  free, 
When  wife  and  chil'ren  wid  me,  I'll1  sing  in  Paradise, 
How  He,  de  blessed  Jesus,  hab  bought  me  wid  a  price; 
How  de  Lord  hab  not  forgotten 
How  well  I  hoed  de  cotton, 
How  well  I  hoed  de  cotton 

On  de  ole  Virginny  shore  ; 
Dar  I'll  neber  hoe  de  cotton, 
Oh  I  I'll  neber  hoe  de  cotton 
Any  more."  * 

When  away  from  the  whites,  and  among  his  own  class,  Pete  could 
often  be  heard  in  the  following  strains :  — 


CLOTELLE.  109 

"  A  storm  am  brewin'  in  de  Souf, 

A  storm  am  brewin'  now. 
Oh  I  hearken  den,  and  shut  your  niouf, 

And  I  will  tell  you  how : 
And  I  will  tell  you  how,  ole  boy, 

De  storm  of  fire  will  pour, 
And  make  de  darkies  dance  for  joy, 

As  dey  neber  danced  afore ; 
So  shut  your  mouf  as  close  as  deaf  h, 
And  all  you  niggas  hole  your  breaf  h, 

And  I  will  tell  you  how. 

"  De  darkies  at  de  Norf  am  ris, 

And  dey  am  comin'  down  — 
Am  comin'  down,  I  know  dey  is, 

To  do  de  white  folks  brown ! 
Dey'll  turn  ole  Massa  out  to  grass, 

And  set  de  niggas  free, 
And  when  dat  day  am  come  to  pass 

We'll  all  be  dar  to  see ! 
So  shut  your  mouf  as  close  as  deaf  h, 
And  all  you  niggas  hole  your  breaf  h, 

And  do  de  white  folks  brown ! 

"  Den  all  de  week  will  be  as  gay 

As  am  de  Chris'mas  time; 
We'll  dance  all  night  and  all  de  day, 

And  make  de  banjo  chime  — 
And  make  de  banjo  chime,  I  tink, 

And  pass  de  time  away, 
Wid  'nuf  to  eat  and  nuf  to  drink, 

And  not  a  bit  to  pay  1 
So  shut  your  mouf  as  close  as  deaf  h, 
And  all  you  niggas  bole  your  breaf  h, 

And  make  de  banjo  chime." 


How  to  escape  from  prison  was  ever  the  thoughts  by  day  and  dreams 
by  night  of  the  incarcerated.  Plans  were  concocted,  partly  put  into 
execution,  and  then  proved  failures.  Some  of  these  caused  increased 
suffering  to  the  prisoners  after  their  discovery;  for,  where  the  real  par 
ties  could  not  be  found,  the  whole  were  ill-treated  as  a  punishment  to 
the  guilty.  Tunnelling  was  generally  the  mode  for  escape ;  and  tunnel 
ling  became  the  order  of  the  day,  or,  rather,  the  work  for  the  night. 
In  the  latter  part  of  November,  1863,  the  unusual  gaiety  of  the  prisoners 
showed  that  some  plan  of  exit  from  the  prison  was  soon  to  be  exhibited. 


110  CLOTELLE. 

CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

THE  GREAT  TUNNEL  AND  THE  MISTAKE. 

FOR  several  weeks,  some  ten  or  fifteen  of  the  most  able-bodied  of  the 
prisoners  had  been  nightly  at  work ;  and  the  great  tunnel,  the  largest 
ever  projected  by  men  for  their  escape  from  prison,  was  thought  to  be 
finished,  with  the  exception  of  the  tapping  outside  of  the  prison  wall. 
The  digging  of  a  tunnel  is  not  an  easy  job.  and,  consequently,  is  of 
slow  progress.  The  Andersonville  prisoners  had  to  dig  ten  feet  down 
into  the  earth,  after  cutting  through  the  floor,  and  then  went  a  distance 
of  fifty  feet  to  get  beyond  the  wall.  The  digging  was  done  in  the  fol 
lowing  way :  As  soon  as  the  operator  was  below  the  surface,  and  had 
a  place  large  enough  to  admit  the  body,  he  laid  down  upon  his  face,  at 
full  length,  and  with  his  knife,  spoon,  piece  of  earthenware,  or  old  iron, 
dug  away  with  all  his  energies,  throwing  the  dirt  behind  him,  which 
was  gathered  up  by  a  confederate,  carried  off,  and  hid.  This  mode  of 
operating  was  carried  on  night  after  night,  and  the  flooring  replaced 
during  the  day,  to  prevent  suspicion.  The  want  of  fresh  air  in  the 
tunnel,  as  it  progressed  to  completion,  often  drove  the  men  from  their 
work,  and  caused  a  delay,  which  proved  fatal  to  their  successful  escape. 

The  long-looked  for  day  arrived.  More  than  three  hundred  had  pre 
pared  to  leave  this  hated  abode,  by  the  tunnel.  All  they  waited  for 
was  the  tapping  and  the  signal.  The  time  came,  the  place  of  egress 
was  tapped,  and  the  leader  had  scarcely  put  his  head  out  of  the  hole, 
ere  he  was  fired  upon  by  the  sentinels,  which  soon  alarmed  and  drew 
the  entire  guard  to  the  spot.  Great  was  the  commotion  throughout  the 
prison,  and  all  who  were  caught  in  the  tunnel  were  severely  punished. 

This  failure  seemed  to  depress  the  spirits  of  the  men  more  than  any 
previous  attempt.  'Heavy  irons  were  placed  upon  the  limbs  of  many 
of  the  prisoners,  and  their  lot  was  made  otherwise  harder  by  the  keepers. 
Clotelle,  though  often  permitted  to  see  the  prisoners  and  contribute  to 
their  wants,  and,  though  knowing  much  of  their  designs,  knew  nothing 
of  the  intended  escape,  and  therefore  was  more  bold  in  her  ieterces- 
sions  in  their  behalf  when  failure  came  upon  them. 

The  cruelty  Avhich  followed  this  mishap,  induced  Clotelle  to  interest 
herself  in  another  mode  of  escape  for  the  men  thus  so  heavilj'  ironed. 

Pete,  the  man  of  all  work,  whose  sympathies  were  with  the  Union 
prisoners,  was  easily  gained  over  to  a  promise  of  securing  the  keys  of 
the  prison  and  letting  the  men  escape,  especially  when  Clotelle  offered 
him  money  to  enable  him  to  make  good  his  own  way  to  the  North. 

The  night  of  the  exodus  came.    It  was  favored  with  darkness;  and  it 


CLOTELLE.  HI 

so  happened  that  the  officials  were  on  a  spree,  owing  to  the  arrival  of 
Confederate  officers  with  news  of  a  rebel  victory. 

Before  getting  the  keys,  Pete  supplied  the  sentinels  on  duty  with 
enough  whiskey,  which  he  had  stolen  from  the  keepers'  store-room,  to 
make  them  all  drunk.  At  the  chosen  moment,  the  keys  were  obtained 
by  Pete,  the  doors  and  gates  were  opened,  and  ninety-three  prisoners, 
including  the  tunnel  workers,  whose  irons  were  taken  off,  made  their 
escape,  allowing  the  faithful  negro  to  accompany  them.  Nothing  was 
known  of  the  exit  of  the  men  till  breakfast  hour  on  the  next  morning. 
On  examination  of  the  store-room,  it  was  found,  that,  in  addition  to  the 
whiskey  Pete  had  taken  a  large  supply  of  stores  for  the  accommoda 
tion  of  the  party.  Added  to  this,  a  good  number  of  arms  with  ammu 
nition  had  been  furnished  the  men  by  the  African. 

The  rebels  were  not  prepared  to  successfully  pursue  the  fleeing  pris 
oners,  although  armed  men  were  sent  in  different  directions.  Nothing, 
however,  was  heard  of  them  till  they  reached  the  Union  lines.  Long 
suspected  of  too  freely  aiding  Union  prisoners,  Clotelle  was  now  openly 
charged  with  a  knowledge  of  the  escape  of  these  men,  and  was  com 
pelled  to  leave  Andersonville. 


CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

CONCLUSION. 

THE  fiendish  and  heartless  conduct  of  a  large  number  of  the  people 
of  the  South  towards  Union  men  during  the  war,  and  especially  the 
unlady-like  demeanor  of  rebel  women  at  New  Orleans  and  other  points, 
is  a  matter  that  has  passed  into  history.  In  few  places  were  the*w>men 
more  abusive  to  those  of  Union  proclivities  than  the  female  portion  of 
the  inhabitants  of  Greenville,  Alabama.  While  passing  through  this 
town,  on  her  return  from  Andersonville  to  New  Orleans,  Clotelle  had.to 
encounter  the  fierce  ill-treatment  of  these  chivalrous  daughters  of  the 
South.  There  were,  during  the  rebellion,  many  brave  and  generous 
women,  who,  in  the  mountains  and  lowlands  of  Alabama,  gave  aid  to 
Federals,  —  soldiers  and  civilians,  —  in  their  wanderings  and  escape 
from  the  cruelties  of  the  traitors.  One  of  these  patriotic  women  was 
arrested  while  on  a  visit  to  Greenville  for  the  purpose  of  procuring 
medicine  and  other  necessaries  for  sick  Union  men  then  hid  away  in  the 
woods.  This  large-hearted  woman  —  Eunice  Hastings  —  had  her  horse 
taken  from  her,  robbed  of  the  goods  she  had  purchased,  and,  after  expe 
riencing  almost  death  at  the  hands  of  the  rebel  women,  was  released 


112  CLOTELLE. 

and  turned  out  penniless,  and  without  the  means  of  reaching  her  homo 
in  the  country;  when  Clotelle,  who  had  just  arrived  at  the  dilapidated 
and  poorly  kept  hotel,  met  her,  and,  learning  the  particulars  of  her  case, 
offered  assistance  to  the  injured  woman,  which  brought  down  upon  her 
own  head  the  condemnation  of  the  secesh  population  of  the  place.  How 
ever,  Clotelle  purchased  a  fine  horse  from  the  landlord,  gave  it  to  Miss 
Hastings,  who,  after  securing  some  articles  for  which  she  had  come  to 
Greenville,  left  town  under  cover  of  night,  and  escaped  further  molesta 
tion.  This  act  of  kindness  to  a  helpless  sister  at  once  stirred  up  the 
vilest  feelings  of  the  people. 

"  The  worst  of  slaves  is  he  whom  passion  rules." 

As  has  already  been  said,  there  was  nothing  in  the  appearance  of  Clo 
telle  to  indicate  that  a  drop  of  African  blood  coursed  through  her  veins, 
except,  perhaps,  the  slight  wave  in  the  hair,  and  the  scarcely  percepti 
ble  brunettish  tinge  upon  the  countenance.  She  passed  as  a  rebel  lady; 
yet  the  inhabitants  of  Greenville  could  not  permit  sympathy  with,  and 
aid  to,  a  Union  woman  to  pass  unnoticed,  and  therefore  resolved  on  re 
venge. 

"  Revenge,  at  first  though  sweet, 
Bitter  ere  long,  back  ou  itself  recoils." 

Clotelle's  person,  trunks,  and  letters  were  all  searched  with  the  hope 
and  expectation  of  finding  evidences  of  a  spy.  Nothing  of  the  kind 
being  found,  she  was  then  rigorously  interrogated  as  to  her  sympathies 
with  the  two  contending  armies.  With  no  wish  whatever  to  conceal 
her  opinions,  she  openly  avowed  that  she  was  a  Union  woman.  This 
was  enough.  After  being  persecuted  during  the  day,  she  was  put  in 
charge  of  a  committee  of  rebel  women  for  the  night,  with  a  promise  of 
more  violent  treatment  on  the  morrow.  The  loyalty  of  the  negroes  of 
the  South,  during  the  severest  hours  of  the  rebellion,  reflects  the  great 
est  possible  credit  on  the  race.  Through  their  assistance,  hundreds  of 
Union  men  were  enabled  to  make  their  escape  from  prisons,  and  thou 
sands  kept  from  starvation  when  on  their  way  to  the  Federal  lines,  or 
while  keeping  out  of  the  way  of  lebel  recruiting  gangs.  They  seldom, 
if  ever,  hesitated  to  do  the  white  Unionists  a  service,  at  the  risk  even 
of  life,  and,  under  the  most  trying  circumstances,  revealed  a  devotion 
and  a  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  that  were  heroic.  No  one  ever  made  an 
appeal  to  thorn  they  did  not  answer.  They  were  degraded  and  igno 
rant,  which  was  attributable  to  the  cruel  laws  and  equally  unchristian 
practices  of  the  people  of  the  South;  but  their  hearts  were  always  open, 


CLOTELLE  113 

and  the  slightest  demand  upon  their  sympathies  brought  forth  their 
tears.  They  never  shunned  a  man  or  woman  who  sought  food  or  shel 
ter  on  their  way  to  freedom.  The  goodnes»of  heart  arid  the  guileless 
spirit  of  the  blacks  was  not  better  understood  by  any  one  than  Clotelle ; 
and  she  felt  a  secret  joy  at  seeing  all  the  servants  in  the  Greenville 
hotel  negroe^  She  saw  from  their  very  looks  that  she  had  their  undi 
vided  sympathies.  One  of  the  servants  overheard  the  rebels  in  a  con 
versation,  in  which  it  was  determined  to  send  Clotelle  to  the  county 
town,  for  safe  keeping  in  the  jail,  the  following  day;  and  this  fact  was 
communicated  to  the  unfortunate  woman.  The  slave  woman  who  gave 
the  information  told  her  that  she  could  escape  if  she  desired. 

Having  already  been  robbed  of  every  thing  except  the  apparel  upon 
her  person  and  some  money  she  had  concealed  about  her,  she  at  once 
signified  to  the  black  woman  her  wish  to  get  out  of  the  reach  of  her 
persecutors.  The  old  worn-out  clock  in  the  narrow  dining  hall  had 
struck  one;  a  cold  rain  was  patting  upon  the  roof,  and  the  women 
watchers,  one  after  another,  had  fallen  asleep ;  and  even  the  snuff-dip 
pers,  whose  dirty  practice  creates  a  nervousness  that  keeps  them  awake 
longer  than  any  other  class,  had  yielded  to  the  demands  of  Morpheus, 
when  Aggy,  the  colored  servant,  stealthily  entered  the  room,  beckoned 
to  Clotelle,  and  both  left  in  silence. 

Cautiously  and  softly  the  black  woman  led  the  way,  followed  by  the 
"Angel  of  Mercy,"  till,  after  passing  down  through  the  cellar  with  the 
water  covering  the  floor,  they  emerged  into  the  back  yard.  Two  horses 
had  been  provided.  Clotelle  mounted  one,  and  a  black  man  the  other; 
the  latter  leading  the  way.  Both  dashed  off  at  a  rapid  pace,  through  a 
drenching  storm,  with  such  a  pall-like  darkness  that  they  could  not  see 
each  other.  After  an  hour's  ride  the  negro  halted,  and  informed  Clotelle 
that  he  must  leave  her,  and  return  with  the  horses,  but  that  she  was 
with  friends.  He  then  gave  a  whistle,  and  for  a  moment  held  his  breath. 
Just  as  the  faithful  black  was  about  to  repeat  the  signal,  he  heard  the 
response;  and  in  a  moment  the  lady  alighted,  and  with  dripping  gar 
ments,  limbs  chilled  to  numbness,  followed  her  new  guide  to  a  place  of 
concealment,  near  the  village  of  Taitsville. 

"  You  is  jes  as  wet  as  a  drownded  rat,"  said  the  mulatto  woman,  who 
met  Clotelle  as  she  entered  the  negro's  cabin. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  latter,  "  this  is  a  stormy  night  for  one  to  be  out." 

"  Yes  mam,  dese  is  hard  times  for  eberybody  dat  'bleves  in  de  Union. 
I  'spose  deys  cotched  your  husband,  an'  put  him  in  de  army,  ain't  dey  ?" 

"  No:  my  husband  died  at  Port  Hudson,  fighting  for  the  Union,"  said 
Clotelle. 

"  Oh,  mam,  dats  de  place  whar  de  black  people  fight  de  rebels  so, 
wasn't  it?"  remarked  Dinah,  for  such  was  her  name. 
8 


114  CLOTELLE. 

"Yes,  that  was  the  place,"  replied  the  former.  "I  see  that  your 
husband  has  lost  one  of  his  hands:  did  he  lose  it  in  the  war?" 

"Oh  no, missus,"  said  &inah.  "When  dey  was  taken  all  de  men, 
black  an  white,  to  put  in  de  army,  dey  cotched  my  ole  man  too,  and 
took  him  long  wid  'em.  So  you  see,  he  said  he'd  die  afore  he'd  shoot  at 
de  Yanks.  So  you  see,  missus,  Jimmy  jes  took  and  lay  his  left  han'  on 
a  log,  and  chop  it  off  wid  de  hatchet.  Den,  you  see,  dey  let  him  go,  an' 
he  come  home.  You  see,  missus,  my  Jimmy  is  a  free  man :  he  was 
born  free,  an'  he  bought  me,  an'  pay  fifteen  hundred  dollars  for  me." 

It  was  true  that  Jim  had  purchased  his  wife ;  nor  had  he  forgotten 
the  fact,  as  was  shown  a  day  or  two  after,  while  in  conversation  with 
her.  The  woman,  like  many  of  her  sex,  was  an  inveterate  scold,  and 
Jim  had  but  one  way  to  govern  her  tongue.  "  Shet  your  mouf,  madam, 
an'  hole  your  tongue,"  said  Jim,  after  his  wife  had  scolded  and  sput 
tered  away  for  some  minutes.  "  Shet  your  mouf  dis  minit,  I  say:  you 
shan't  stan'  dar,  an'  talk  ter  me  in  dat  way.  I  bought  you,  an'  paid  my 
money  fer  you,  an'  I  ain't  a  gwine  ter  let  you  sase  me  in  dat  way.  Shet 
your  mouf  dis  minit:  ef  you  don't  I'll  sell  you;  'fore  God  I  will.  Shet 
up,  I  say,  or  I'll  sell  you."  This  had  the  desired  effect,  and  settled 
Dinah  for  the  day. 

After  a  week  spent  in  this  place  of  concealment,  Jim  conveyed  Clo- 
telle  to  Leaksville,  Mississippi,  through  the  Federal  lines,  and  from 
thence  she  proceeded  to  New  Orleans. 

The  Rebellion  was  now  drawing  to  a  close.  The  valley  of  the  Mis 
sissippi  was  in  full  possession  of  the  Federal  government.  Sherman 
was  on  his  raid,  and  Grant  was  hemrriing  in  Lee.  Everywhere  the  con 
dition  of  the  freedmen  attracted  the  attention  of  the  friends  of  humanity, 
and  no  one  felt  more  keenly  their  wants  than  Clotelle;  and  to  their  edu 
cation  and  welfare  she  resolved  to  devote  the  remainder  of  her  life,  and 
for  this  purpose  went  to  the  State  of  Mississippi,  and  opened  a  school 
for  the  freedmen ;  hired  teachers,  paying  them  out  of  her  own  purse. 
In  the  summer  of  1866,  the  Poplar  Farm,  on  which  she  had  once  lived 
as  a  slave,  was  confiscated  and  sold  by  Government  authority,  and  was 
purchased  by  Clotelle,  upon  which  she  established  a  Freedmen's  School, 
and  where  at  this  writing,  —  now  June,  1867,  —  resides  the  "  Angel  of 
Mercy." 


.    .;> 


